THE  DON  JUAN  LEGEND  IN  SPANISH  LITERATURE, 
WITH  SPECIAL  REFERENCE  TO  THE  DRAMA 


BY 


THOMAS  AUSTIN  FITZGERALD 
A.  B,  University  of  Missouri,  1913 


THESIS 


Submitted  in  Partial  Fulfillment  of  the  Requirements  for  the 

Degree  of 


MASTER  OF  ARTS 
IN  ROMANCE  LANGUAGES 


IN 


THE  GRADUATE  SCHOOL 


OF  THE 


UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 


1921 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016 


https://archive.org/details/donjuanlegendinsOOfitz 


CONTENTS 


I.  Introduction  . 

• t 

1 

II.  The  Legend 

• • 

7 

III.  El  Bur lad or 

t • 

15 

IV.  £Tan  largo  me  lo 

fiais? 

29 

V.  La  Venganza  en  el 

sejpulcro 

35 

VI,  No  hay  plazo  que 

no  se  cumola 

43 

VII.  Don  Juan  Tenorio 

• • 

51 

VIII.  Minor  Plays  and  Poems 

81 

IX.  Conclusion 

• • 

89 

Notes 

• • 

96 

Bibliography  . 

• • 

• 

. 101 

' 


. 


■ 


I.  INTRODUCTION 


Different  persons,  being  asked  point-blank  to  express 
the  idea  with  which  the  term  "Don  Juan"  is  associated  in  their 
minds,  would  doubtless  give  slightly  different  reactions,  but  in 
all  probability  there  would  be  a common  element,  which  would  be 
at  the  same  time  the  dominant  one.  The  commonest  conception  of 
a "Don  Juan"  is  probably  a young  man  who  lives  the  notion  that  ev- 
ery woman  is  fair  game,  and  who  does  not  stop  short  of  complete 
conquest  unless  his  efforts  are  earlier  proved  useless.  Along 
with  this  idea  doubtless  exists  that  which  would  have  a "Don  Juan" 
to  be  merely  a sociably  inclined  young  man  with  leanings  toward 
the  other  sex,  a ready  talker,  a stranger  to  embarrassment,  and 
popular,  but  nevertheless  perfectly  chaste.  Of  course,  these  con- 
ceptions are  parallel  most  of  the  way;  in  the  fundamental  element 
of  association  with  the  opposite  sex  they  are  the  same  thing.  No 
one  would  call  a drunken  reveler,  as  such,  a "Don  Juan";  no  one 
would  call  a blasphemer  a "Don  Juan"  on  that  account;  no  one  would 
call  a professional  gambler  a "Don  Juan"  for  that  reason.  Each  of 
these  characters  may , in  addition,  be  a "ladies'  man"  and  thus  be 
called  a "Don  Juan".  Provided  that  the  fundamental  element  is 
present  in  notable  degree,  the  addition  of  others  does  not  take 
the  character  out  of  the  category  of  "Don  Juans". 

The  fundamental  element  is  itself,  however,  subject  to 
certain  restrictions.  That  is,  the  relations  with  women  must  have 


f 


■ 


' 


. 


no  commercial  aspect;  a "Don  Juan"  does  not  buy  women,  either  for 
his  own  purpose  or  to  pass  on  to  others  for  a consideration.  I am 
quite  certain  that  the  general  feeling  would  be  that  such  a use  of 
the  term  "Don  Juan"  as  that  made  by  Michael  Heseltine  in  his  trans- 
lation of  Petronius  Arbiter's  Satyricon^  where  he  renders  the  term 
"agaga"  by  "Don  Juan",  is  not  in  accordance  with  the  common  con- 
ception of  the  term.  In  other  words,  Don  Juan  is  in  no  jot  of  his 
character  a pimp.  The  term  names  a human  weakness,  not  a human 
perversion.  In  some  sections  of  the  country  where  ideas  of  chiv- 
alry are  not  very  acute,  the  use  of  the  term  by  a friend  would  be 
considered  the  most  sincere  flattery,  in  much  the  same  way  as  a 
reputation  for  the  ability  to  drink  large  amounts  of  intoxicating 
liquors  is  in  many  sections  a matter  to  be  boasted  of  with  pride. 
Even  under  such  circumstances  as  would  make  the  application  of  the 
term  offensive,  it  does  not  become  an  epithet  of  deep  opprobrium. 
That  is,  the  popular  use  of  the  expression  is  entirely  lacking  in 
such  connotation  as  would  make  it  a satisfactory  expression  of 
abuse.  Whether  the  phrase  connotes  a "roue"  or  a clean-minded 
young  man  who  finds  his  greatest  pleasure  in  frank  intercourse 
with  young  women,  its  use  does  not  indicate  abuse,  or  scarcely 
even  reproval,  but  rather  good-natured  tolerance;  perhaps  it  may 
have  a tinge  of  friendly  envy,  or  may  even,  many  times,  express 
frank  admiration,  for  it  would  not  be  applied  across  the  line  that 
divides  the  two  classes  for  whom  the  connotation  differs.  In  Va- 
lera's Pepita  Jimenez,  Don  Luis  speaks  of  his  father  as  "una  es- 
pecie  de  D.  Juan  Tenorio"  (p.  24),  and  this  is  typical  of  its  use, 
except  that  perhaps  the  expression  does  not  hold  quite  so  digni- 
fied a position  as  one  might  be  led  to  believe  by  seeing  it  in 


. 


8C  - i J r>i 


3 


p 

Pepita  Jimenez.  Picatoste  informs  us  that  the  expression  "es  un 
Tenorio"  is  very  common  in  Spain,  but  that  the  phrase  has  not  been 
and  will  not  be  applied  to  a criminal  who  cynically  commits  the 
same  crimes  as  Tenorio,  nor  to  a hypocrite  who  indulges  his  vices 
in  the  dark,  or  under  the  veil  of  virtue.  Professor  Waxman3  sug- 
gests as  equivalent  to  the  Spanish  phrase  the  American  slang  ex- 
pressions "He  is  a lady-killer"  and  "He  is  a devil  with  the  women" 
So  much  for  the  term.  As  to  the  legend,  how  well  or 
widely  is  it  known?  I think  it  is  safe  to  say  that  in  its  entire- 
ty the  legend  is  known  to  comparatively  few  people  in  our  country. 
Very  little  study  has  been  given  to  it  by  our  scholars,  and  liter- 
ary references  to  it  are  very  rare.  No  American  versions  of  the 
theme  have  come  to  my  attention,  and  those  in  English  literature 
are  early  and  very  different  from  the  original.  Of  the  earliest 
English  treatment.  Professor  Waxman  says  (p.  193),  "Shadwell  took 
the  already  distorted  and  misrepresented  Don  Juan,  and  in  his 
Libertine , published  in  1676,  presented  one  of  the  vilest,  most 
inhuman  wretches  ever  characterized.  For  gross  filth,  Shadwell' s 
Libertine  surpasses  by  far  all  other  renderings  of  the  legend. 

Full  of  fire,  rapine,  and  murder,  it  would  horrify  the  most  ex- 
treme melodramatic  taste".  Robert  Lovelace,  the  chief  male  char- 
acter in  Samuel  Richardson's  Clarissa  Marlowe  (1747),  is  obvious- 
ly patterned  after  Don  Juan,  but  does  not  suggest  either  the  leg- 
end or  its  hero  in  its  original  form.  In  1819,  Lord  Byron  issued 
the  first  part  of  a fragmentary  epic  called  Don  Juan , but  it  like- 
wise fails  to  give  any  idea  of  either  the  real  Don  Juan  or  his 
legendary  setting.  Some  time  before  the  middle  of  the  same  cen- 
tury, Thomas  William  Moncrieff  wrote  Giovanni  in  London,  or  the 


. 


11  I : l — I 

■ 

■ 


. 


. 


4 


Libertine  Reclaimed,  "a  poor  operatic  extravaganza"4  in  two  acts, 
showing  Don  Juan  as  Moncrieff  conceived  him  after  he  had  been 
driven  out  of  Pluto’s  realms  for  alleged  intimacies  with  the  queen, 
Proserpina,  and  the  royal  maids  of  the  court  of  the  King  of  Hades, 
its  principal  connection  with  the  legend  is  the  mention  of  some 
familiar  names  and  the  brief,  humorous  telling  in  doggerel  verse 
of  the  argument  of  El  Burlador. 

Professor  Hills'  catalog®  of  Spanish  plays  that  have 
been  translated  into  English  does  not  contain  Tirso's  Burlador . 
nor  Zamora's  version,  nor  Zorrilla's  popular  play,  and  it  would 
seem  that  these  plays  sire  all  unavailable  to  English  readers/  In 
fact,  serious  study  of  the  matter  in  any  country  is  of  compara- 
tively recent  date.  Farinelli,  an  Italian,  made  the  first  schol- 
arly investigation®  of  it  just  twenty-five  years  ago,  and  four 
years  later,  when  adding  some  notes  to  his  previous  study7,  he  ex- 
pressed the  hope  that  some  one  would  study  the  legend  thoroughly. 
Gendarme  de  Bevotte,  a Frenchman,  did  this  and  published  the  re- 
sults of  his  study  in  1906. 8 To  this  material  he  added  another 
volume  five  years  later.  In  1908,  Said  Armesto,  a Spaniard,  pub- 
lished the  results  of  a scholarly  investigation  into  the  sources 
of  the  legend.^ 

The  only  American  study  I have  come  across  is  one  by 
Professor  Waxman,  which  was  published  in  the  Journal  of  American 


*Alonso  Cortes  calls  attention,  in  his  study  on  Zorrilla 
(p.  441,  note),  to  an  adaptation  in  English  of  Zorrilla's  Don  Juan 
Tenor io , which  was  made  by  Mrs.  Gabriela  Cunningharae  Graham  under 
the  title  of  Don  Juan's  Last  Bet.  It  was  played  in  London  in  1900, 
but  was  not  received  with  any  warmth.  Alonso  Cortes  attributes 
this  latter  fact  to  the  freedom  with  which  Mrs.  Graham  changed 
Zorrilla's  play. 


. . • . . . 


■ 


5 


Folk-Lore!0  The  brief  articles  appearing  in  our  Encyclopaedias, 
the  Americana  (1918  edition)  and  the  New  International  (1915  edi- 
tion),  do  not  purport  to  be  scholarly  studies  and  have  little  or 
no  value  beyond  their  bibliographies.  Both  are  unsigned  (unless 
the  one  in  the  Americana  is  to  be  considered  as  signed  by  the 
writer  of  the  article  immediately  following,  which  bears  the  same 
heading  but  treats  of  the  play  of  that  name  by  Moliere)-^  and 
there  is  much  similarity  in  the  two.  The  only  other  material  con- 
cerning the  legend  that  I have  been  able  to  find  in  English  is 
that  which  the  eminent  English  scholar,  Fi tzmaurice-Kelly , has 
published  in  the  New  Review  and  in  the  Encyclopaedia  Britannica. 
The  first  is  not  comprehensive,  being  merely  a review  of  an  Ital- 
ian study  (that  of  de  Simone  Brouwer),  nor  easily  available.  The 
latter  is  unsatisfactory  by  reason  of  its  brevity,  though  somewhat 
longer  than  the  articles  in  the  American  Encyclopaedias,  and  of 
not  being  up  to  date  in  point  of  scholarship. 

As  popular  conceptions  of  the  term  have  differed,  so 
have  literary  expressions.  The  original  Don  Juan,  as  presented  by 
Tirso  de  Molina  in  his  play  entitled  El  Burlador  de  Sevilla,  y 
Convidado  de  piedra,  in  the  seventeenth  century,  exhibits  a cer- 
tain definite  character,  and  each  succeeding  treatment  has  changed 
him  in  some  degree,  great  or  small.  Along  with  changes  in  the 
character  of  Don  Juan  himself  have  taken  place  changes  in  the  ve- 
hicle in  which  he  is  presented.  Starting  in  the  theatre,  he  has 
appeared  since  in  other  forms  of  poetry  and  in  prose.  He  has  not 
remained  in  Spain;  on  the  other  hand,  he  first  became  popular  out 
of  Spain,  in  Italy  and  in  France,  and  from  there  he  spread  to  Ger- 
many, England,  and  Russia,  and  now  has  his  counterpart  in  almost 


.. 


. e 


. ■ 


■ 


6 


every  known  literature. 

It  is  my  task  to  follow  him  through  his  development  in 
Spain,  particularly  in  the  drama.  He  first  appears  as  an  entity 
in  Tirso  de  Molina's  play  already  named,  published  in  Barcelona 

in  1630,  but  supposedly  written  about  1625  during  or  shortly  after 

/ 

a trip  made  by  the  author  through  Andalusia.  A variant  of  El  Bur- 
lador  appeared  later,  probably  during  the  latter  half  of  the  cen- 
tury, with  the  title  of  £Tan  largo  me  lo  flais?,  the  authorship  of 
which  has  long  been  uncertain.  Cotar elo  y Mori,  however,  has  of- 
fered a suggestion  that  seems  to  meet  approval,  that  is,  the  name 
of  Claramonte.  Somewhere  along  here  comes  a play  of  very  uncer- 
tain date  by  Alonso  de  Cdrdoba  y Maldonado,  entitled  La  Venganza 
en  el  sepulcro,and  characterized  in  one  study,  the  reference  to 
which  I have  misplaced,  as  "une  mediocre  imitation  du  Burlador 11 . 
This  existed  only  in  manuscript  form  up  to  1907  and  is  "almost  un- 
known to  recent  writers  on  Don  Juan",  according  to  Cotarelo  y Mo- 
ri.12 Jose  Franquesa  y Gomis  published  a study  of  this  play  in 
Homena.ie  a Menendez  y Pelayo,  Madrid,  1899.  Early  in  the  eight- 
eenth century,  Antonio  de  Zamora  made  a "refundicidn"  of  El  Bur- 
la-dor  entitled  ho  hay  plazo  que  no  se  cumpla  ni  deuda  que  no  se 
pague , y Convidado  de  piedra.  In  the  following  century,  in  1844, 
Jose  Zorrilla  wrote  his  Don  Juan  Tenorio,  so  popular  for  over 
three  quarters  of  a century.  Numerous  parodies  or  burlesques  of 
these  serious  attempts  at  a "theatre  edifiant"  have  made  their  ap- 
pearance and  doubtless  have  had  their  day,  but  are  of  so  little 
importance  that  even  a list  of  their  titles  is  unavailable. 


. 


. 

. 


■ 


■ 


II.  THE  LEGEND 


The  latest  scholarship,  represented  by  Gendarme  de  b£- 
votte,  recognizes  that  the  Don  Juan  legend  does  not  antedate  the 
early  part  of  the  seventeenth  century*  8<§votte  goes  a step  fur- 
ther and  says  that  the  legend  started  in  Spain,  with  the  C on vi da- 
do de  piedra.  "Donjuanisme" , however,  existed  earlier,  — much 
earlier.  It  is  a general  phenomenon,  inherent  in  human  nature.* 
Tirso  gave  the  name,  but  not  life,  to  the  legend.  Libertines  had 
existed  before  Tirso,  even  on  the  stage;  but  that  is  not  the  Don 
Juan  legend.  Moving  and  speaking  statues  had  existed  before  Tir- 
so; but  again,  that  is  not  the  Don  Juan  legend.  What,  then,  is 
the  Don  Juan  legend?  It  is  the  combination  of  divine  justice 
meted  out  to  a blasphemous  libertine  through  the  supernatural 
agency  of  a moving  and  speaking  statue  which  is  invited  by  the 
libertine  to  partake  of  a meal  with  him,  and  returns  the  invita- 
tion. No  less  than  this  constitutes  the  legend.  Where  did  Tirso 
get  it?  Was  it  purely  original  invention?  No,  and  yes. 

In  the  first  half  of  the  nineteenth  century  a Frenchman, 
Viardot,  probably  hoodwinked  by  guides  in  Seville,  published  what 
was  long  accepted  as  a historical  basis  of  the  legend.  The  story 
is  told  by  Aim6  Martin,  quoted  by  Charles  Louandre  in  his  edition 

*'Said  Armesto,  in  his  study  entitled  La  Levenda  de  Don 
(p*  89  ) j mentions,  but  leaves  unnamed,  a friend  of  his,  "di- 
ligente  donjuanbf ilo" , who  asserts  that  "acaso  este  en  el  Priapo 
pagano  el  molde  formatriz,  esquema  o pref iguraci<5n  orofetica  del 
Burlador " . 


7 


. 


. 

. 


i .0 


of  Moliere's  works,  Vol.  II,  as  the  source  of  Moli&re‘s  Don  Juan. 
It  is  as  follows: 


"The  chronicles  of  Seville  speak  of  Don  Juan  Teno- 
rio,  one  of  the  ' veinte-cuatros' , a debauched  and  perverse 
man,  putting  his  immorality  under  the  protection  of  his  rank. 
He  seized  and  carried  away  the  daughter  of  the  Comendador  de 
Calatrava,  Don  Gonzalo  de  Ulloa,  and  to  the  rape  added  mur- 
der; the  old  man  trying  to  pursue  the  ravisher,  fell  pierced 
by  a thrust  of  his  sword.  His  family,  in  despair,  could  not 
obtain  justice.  Don  Juan,  emboldened  by  his  triumph,  terror- 
ized Seville;  no  one  dared  put  any  obstacle  in  his  way.  The 
Comendador  had  been  buried  in  the  church  of  the  San  Francis- 
can monks,  where  the  Ulloa  family  had  a chapel.  The  monks 
undertook  to  stop  Don  Juan  in  the  midst  of  his  criminal  ca- 
reer, and  supplement  the  powerlessness  of  the  laws  and  the 
cowardice  of  the  magistrates.  Only  one  means  presented  it- 
self, — the  death  of  the  guilty  one.  He  was  condemned.  He 
received  a letter  from  an  unknown  woman,  who  said  she  was 
young  and  beautiful,  and  who  gave  him  a rendezvous  in  the 
church  of  the  Franciscans,  at  a late  hour  of  the  night.  Don 
Juan  went  there  and  never  came  back;  his  body  was  not  even 
found.  The  next  day,  the  monks  announced  that  Don  Juan  had 

come  to  insult  the  statue  of  the  Comendador  — had  come  into 

the  very  chapel.  The  man  of  marble  assumed  life,  the  earth 
opened,  and  the  impious  one  fell  living  into  hell.  What  Span- 
iard dared  doubt  a miracle  attested  by  the  monks,  and  besides 
so  useful  to  the  general  welfare!  The  miracle  was  then  rec- 
ognized as  true,  and  human  justice  gave  up  the  pursuit.  ... 


. 


. 


. 


. 


. i - • - . 


. 


, 

. 


At  that  time  there  was  living  in  this  convent  a "religieux" 
named  Gabriel  Tellez,  who,  ...  under  the  name  of  Tirso  de  Mo- 
lina, treated  the  subject  of  Don  Juan." 

This  seemed  a very  plausible  solution  of  the  origin  of 
the  Burlador , but  ilen4ndez  y Pelayo16  discovered  that  the  chroni- 
cles of  Seville  did  not  contain  the  story.  They  were  very  full, 
however,  and  would  very  likely  have  had  the  account  if  it  were  a 
historical  fact.  The  searches  of  a French  and  an  Italian  scholar 
have  likewise  failed  to  show  a single  trace  of  any  historical  Don 
Juan^-f  No  historical  stories  contain  the  single  element  which 
constitutes  the  originality  of  the  Burlador , — namely,  the  mir- 
acle of  the  statue.  In  the  absence  of  a historical  character, 
there  have  been  attempts  to  find  a literary  prototype,  and  so  nu- 
merous are  similar  characters  in  history  and  literature  that  many 
suggestions  have  been  offered,  but  no  character  has  been  found 
that  offers  sufficient  analogy  of  episodes,  crimes,  and  mysterious 
death  to  be  the  prototype  of  Tirso* s immortal  Don  Juan.16 

The  legend  contains  two  distinct  themes:16  "first,  the 
character  of  the  dissolute  youth,  of  the  audacious,  insolent,  and 
licentious  man,  skilled  in  courting  and  importuning  women,  *a  very 
devil,  impenitent  and  terrible',  a type  not  at  all  unusual,  a type 
known  from  an  early  date  on  the  stage,  as  proved  by  Cueva's  Infa- 
mador , by  Cervantes'  Rufian  dichoso.  by  Amescua's  Esclavo  del  de- 
taonlo  and  El  Negro  del  mejor  amo , by  Lope's  Fianza  satlsfecha", 
Cardenal  de  Belen,  and  San  Diego  de  Alcala,  and  by  Tirso' s own 
Condenado  por  desconfiado: second . the  final  condemnation  of  the 


hero  for  having  mocked  the  dead,  and  in  an  unusual  way,  — namely, 
by  inviting  the  dead  to  supper.  Here  is  "indisputably  the  funda- 


. 

. 


• 

• 

. 


10 


mental  point  of  the  legend  that  Tirso  has  perpetuated".17  There 
have  been  many  animated  statues  in  literature, 16  but  they  have  no 
relation  to  Tirso1 s drama,  the  essential  part  of  which,  again  I 
mention  it,  is  the  invitation.  Don  Juan  logically  became  angry  at 
the  word  "traitor"  in  the  epitaph  on  the  stone  above  the  Comenda- 
dor's  grave,  as  others  had  felt  anger  toward  statues  before,  but 
Don  Juan  makes  an  abrupt  transition  to  a perfectly  illogical  in- 
vitation to  eat.  The  germs  of  this.  Said  Armesto  tells  us,19  must 
be  sought  in  the  superstitious  practice,  of  great  antiquity,  of 
regaling  the  dead  at  certain  times  on  food  and  drink. 

As  for  the  trait  of  a mortal  braving  the  dead,  the  lit- 
erature of  the  early  seventeenth  century  has  a whole  galaxy  of  men 
who  do  not  fear  to  face  the  supernatural.  Micael  de  Carvajal's 
Las  Cortes  de  la  muerte  of  the  sixteenth  century  already  has  in 
it,  in  the  character  of  the  Portuguese,  who  is  really  a Don  Juan 
in  caricature,  such  an  example  of  bravado.  Espinel's  Vida  del 
escudero  Marcos  de  Obregdn  (1618),  contains  a passage  of  this 
kind.  Analogous  to  this  is  the  scene  dramatized  by  Lope  in  his 
Marques  de  las  navas.  Others,  by  Lope  and  other  writers,  men- 
tioned and  quoted  by  Said  Armesto,20  have  scenes  of  this  sort, 
showing  ample  suggestion  for  Tirso' s play,  but  no  model. 

To  Tirso,  then,  must  be  given  the  credit  for  originating 
the  legend  as  such,  and  for  supplying  the  basis  for  later  develop- 
ments and  modifications  of  it,  as  well  as  for  suggesting  the  sec- 
ondary legends  that  have  grown  up  about  his.  The  most  important 
of  these  is  that  of  the  libertine  who,  seeking  to  enjoy  the  fa- 
vors of  a nun,  goes  to  invade  a convent  one  night  and  finds  the 
church  open  and  a funeral  service  in  progress.  Inquiry  elicits 


. 


. 


. 


. . 


. 


11 


the  information  that  the  funeral  is  his  own.  After  recovering 
from  his  fright,  the  hero  is  converted  and  decides  to  embrace  a 
monastic  life.  For  many  years  he  lives  in  the  most  ascetic  piety, 
and  when  about  to  die,  he  asks  that  he  be  buried  under  the  floor 
in  order  that  he  may  be  trampled  under  foot  by  the  worshipers  as 
they  enter  the  church,  and  that  his  resting  place  be  marked  by 
this  epitaph:  "Here  lies  the  body  of  the  worst  man  in  the  world." 
This  story  is  told  about  a historical  person  of  rank  in  Seville 
named  Miguel  de  Mafiara,  and  has  been  combined  with  the  Don  Juan 
legend.  There  has  even  been  an  attempt  to  establish  Mafiara  as  the 
historical  personage  upon  which  the  Burl ado r was  based.  But  since 
Mafiara  was  born  in  1626,  and  could  have  been  at  most  only  four 
years  old,  and  possibly  unborn,  at  the  time  the  Burlador  was  writ- 
ten, this  theory  is  not  a possibility.  Moreover,  this  tradition 
existed  already  in  the  sixteenth  century;  therefore  the  Mafiara 
legend  was  not  the  first  combination  of  the  two  parts.  Antonio 
Torquemada's  Jardfn  de  flores  curicsas21  and  a sixteenth  century 
play,  sometimes  attributed  to  Lope,  called  El  Nifio  diablo.tr eat 
the  idea,  as  also  do  the  old  ballad  Lisardo  el  estudiante  de  C6r- 
doba,  Cristdbal  Lozano's  Soledades  de  la  vida  y desenganos  del 
mundo , and  Lop e ' s Vaso  de  eleccidn . 

The  combination  of  the  two  themes  — the  stories  of  Te- 
norio  and  Mafiara  — gains  entry  into  the  modern  literature  on  the 
legend  through  a novel  by  Prosper  Merimee,  Les  Ames  du  purgratoire, 
so  well  told  that  one  loses  sight  of  its  shortcomings,  but  never- 
theless of  little  importance  except  for  the  "fact  that  it  became 
a storehouse  for  future  adaptations".22  M4rim£e  says23  that  Se- 
ville has  had  several  Don  Juans,  and  that  many  other  cities  have 


. 

. 

. 


' 

. 

. 

. 


. 


12 


had  their  own.  Formerly  each  had  a separate  legend,  but  in  the 
course  of  time  these  were  combined.  Two  individuals,  however, 
stand  out:  namely,  Don  Juan  Tenorio,  of  stone  statue  fame,  and  Don 
Juan  de  Marana  ( sic ) , who  had  quite  a different  end.  M^rimee's 
story,  he  himself  tells  us  (p.  299),  recounts  only  things  not  told 
of  Tenorio,  who  is  so  well  known  through  Moliere  and  Mozart.  Me- 
rimee's  Don  Juan  comes  of  a good  family  in  which  he  has  had  care- 
ful rearing,  but  he  goes  astray  under  the  tutelage  of  an  evil  com- 
panion when  he  enters  the  University  of  Salamanca.  After  he  en- 
ters the  monastery,  much  later,  he  is  a model  of  piety  for  sever- 
al years.  One  day  the  brother  of  one  of  his  victims  comes  to  the 
monastery  to  be  avenged,  planning  to  kill  Don  Juan  in  mortal  sin 
and  thus  bring  about  the  damnation  of  his  soul.  The  brother 
brings  two  swords  and  tries  to  get  Don  Juan  to  engage  with  him. 
Being  unsuccessful,  he  slaps  the  monk  in  the  face,  whereupon  the 
latter  siezes  one  of  the  swords  and  kills  his  antagonist.  The  af- 
fair is  kept  quiet,  the  dead  body  being  easily  accounted  for  as 
the  monks  see  fit,  and  for  ten  years  more  Don  Juan  continues  his 
pious  life,  performing  every  act  of  penance  that  the  superior  sets, 
one  being  to  allow  himself  to  be  slapped  by  the  cook  every  morn- 
ing. After  his  death,  he  is  buried,  at  his  request,  where  people 
entering  the  church  will  trample  him  under  foot. 

The  great  difference  between  this  legend  and  that  of  the 
stone  guest  makes  it  seem  strange  that  they  should  have  been  con- 
fused, and  perhaps  it  was  not  so  much  a matter  of  confusion  as  of 
intentional  combination  on  the  part  of  the  Romanticists.  Stranger 
confusions  have  arisen,  however.  Don  Juan  became  confused  with 
Faust  in  Germany  early  in  the  eighteenth  century,  and  Waxman 


* 


. 


' 

. 1 


' 


■ 


9 


13 


1 

points  out  (p.  184)  that  such  German  criticism  as  he  has  examined 
is  prejudiced  by  the  Faust  legend.  Much  has  been  written  by  the 
Germans  on  the  Don  Juan  legend,  but  their  criticism  sheas  no  new 
light  on  the  subject,  and  their  literary  works  are  not  Don  Juan 
versions,  but  hybrid  Don  Juan-Faust  productions.  A careful  exami- 
nation of  the  beginnings  of  the  Faust  legend  clearly  proves,  con- 
trary to  German  opinion,  that  there  is  no  connection  between  them, 
whatever  chance  similarity  may  have  developed  by  Goethe's  time. 

W.  A.  Phillips,  in  his  excellent  short  sketch  of  Faust  in  the  En- 
cyclopaedia Britannica,  has  this  to  say  about  the  matter:  "If  then, 
in  Goethe's  drama,  Faust  ultimately  develops  into  the  type  of  the 
unsatisfied  yearning  of  the  human  intellect  for  'more  than  earth- 
ly meat  and  drink',  this  was  because  the  great  German  humanist  de- 
liberately infused  into  the  old  story  a spirit  absolutely  opposite 
to  that  by  which  it  had  originally  been  inspired."  According  to 
Phillips,  there  are  two  principles  underlying  the  Faust  legend: 
namely,  "the  idea  of  a compact  with  the  devil  for  the  purpose  of 
obtaining  human  power  or  knowledge",  and  "the  belief  in  the  essen- 
tially evil  character  of  purely  human  learning".  The  first  is  of 
Jewish  origin,  and  came  into  being  about  the  time  of  the  Christian 
era;  the  second  "has  existed  ever  since  the  triumph  of  Christian- 
ity set  divine  revelation  above  human  science".  But  to  get  away 
from  origins  and  to  consider  conditions  as  they  exist  at  present, 
we  notice  that  Faust  is  essentially  deliberate,  while  Don  Juan  is 
essentially  emotional.  Faust  made  a pact  with  the  devil  through 
an  ulterior  motive;  Don  Juan  was  blissfully  unconscious  of  the 
devil,  but  constantly  played  into  his  hands  in  his  headlong  pur- 
suit of  pleasure.  Faust  made  sacrifices  to  obtain  abstract  power; 


. 

• 

. 


14 


Don  Juan  gave  no  heed  to  the  future  --  he  merely  represents  "in- 
carnate 'joy  of  living' As  Waxman  expresses  it  (p.  184),  the 
theme  of  the  Don  Juan  legend  is  libertinism;  that  of  the  Faust  leg- 
end is  necromancy,  wherein  libertinism  is  merely  incidental. 

As  we  shall  see  when  we  come  to  study  Zorrilla's  play, 
the  Faust  legend  has  had  its  influence  upon  Don  Juan  even  in  the 
land  of  his  birth,  and  hence  the  older  legend  cannot  be  entirely 
neglected  in  a study  of  Don  Juan.  We  shall  also  see  that  the  Ma- 
nara  legend  has  affected  Don  Juan.  Perhaps  other,  less  well-de- 
fined legends  have  had  their  effect  also.  The  point  to  bear  in 
mind  is  that  the  legend  assumes  an  individual  entity  in  Tirso's 
Burlador  de  Sevilla.  Tirso's  protagonist  was  not  the  first  lit- 
erary character  ever  to  seduce  a woman;  neither  was  he  the  first 
ever  to  see  a ghost.  Many  other  things  in  the  Burlador  had  been 
done  in  literature  before.  Nevertheless,  the  combination  of  ele- 
ments is  entirely  new,  and  Tirso's  originality  can  no  longer,  in 
the  light  of  investigations  on  the  subject,  be  open  to  question. 


• • . 

III.  EL  BURLADOR  DE  SEVILLA 


In  the  three  centuries  that  have  elapsed  since  the  writ- 
ing of  El  Burlador  de  Sevilla,  y Convidado  de  piedra,  there  has 
been  simple  time  for  its  thorough  discussion  in  all  its  aspects. 
Some  of  this  discussion  has  been  concerned  with  the  identity  of 
its  author.  The  oldest  known  copy  of  it  is  one  printed  at  Barce- 
lona in  1630  in  a collection  of  Lope's  dramatic  works  entitled  Do- 
ze comedias  nvevas  de  Lope  de  Vega  Carpio,  y otros  avtores.  It  is 
the  seventh  play  in  the  volume  and  bears  the  title  El  Bvrlador  de 
Sevilla,  y Convidado  de  piedra.  Comedia  famosa.  Del  Maestro  Tir- 
so  de  Molina.  Its  inclusion  in  a volume  of  Lope's  plays,  even 
though  it  bore  Tirso's  name  on  the  title  page,  gave  some  one  an 
opportunity  to  deny  that  Tirso  was  the  real  author.  The  fact  that 
a later  edition  of  Tirso's  works  did  not  contain  the  Bur lador 
strengthened  the  position  of  those  who  denied  that  it  was  Tirso's 
play.  This  opinion  has  been  held  by  some  scholars  of  high  rank, 
notably  Farinelli.24  There  have  been  attempts  to  show  that  the 
style  is  not  wholly  that  of  Tirso,  but  even  if  this  be  the  case, 
it  may  be  explained  by  the  unusually  corrupt  condition  of  the  text 
in  the  Barcelona  and  other  later  printings.  Cotarelo  believes 
"the  language  and  style  are  those  common  in  our  author an<j[  no 
Spanish  scholar  of  note  doubts  that  it  is  the  work  of  Tirso.  The 
question  of  authorship  is,  in  fact,  no  longer  an  open  one;  schol- 
ars everywhere,  with  the  exception  of  Farinelli,  have  accepted  the 
play  as  Tirso  de  Molina's. 




' 


16 


The  date  of  its  composition  has  not  been  so  satisfacto- 
rily settled;  indeed,  it  has  not  been  settled  at  all,  though  the 
date  of  the  Barcelona  edition  is  ordinarily  given  as  its  date.  It 
i6  not  necessary  to  suppose,  however,  that  it  was  printed  immedi- 
ately after  it  was  written,  and  it  is  the  common  opinion,  says 
Said  Armesto  (p.  67),  that  it  was  written  about  1625.  This  con- 
jecture is  based  upon  a trip  that  Tirso  is  supposed  to  have  made 
to  Andalusia  about  that  time.  Blanca  de  los  Rios  has  discovered 
evidence  that  this  trip  was  made,  not  in  1625,  but  in  1616. 

Even  if  the  play  depended  upon  this  trip,  it  might,  then,  have 
been  written  nearly  fifteen  years  before  it  was  printed.  Said  Ar- 
mesto points  out  the  absurdity  of  supposing  that  Tirso  could  not 
have  written  about  Seville  without  first  going  there,  and  states 
it  as  his  belief  (p.  72)  that  the  Burlador  is  one  of  his  earliest 
pieces  of  work,  and  certainly  among  those  composed  by  1621,  which 
numbered,  according  to  Tirso  himself,  some  three  hundred.  This 
seems  very  probable,  and  is,  in  a measure,  corroborated  by  a cer- 
tain argument  which  Farinelli  uses  in  an  attempt  to  disprove  the 
Spanish  origin  of  the  legend.  He  cites  the  appearance  of  an  Ital- 
ian Burlador  in.  1620.  Said  Armesto  (pp.  74-80)  has  shown  that 
Farinelli  misread  his  authority,  which  referred  to  a period  be- 
ginning about,  1620.  The  common  opinion  is  that  the  Italian  Don 
Giovannis  were  transplanted  Spaniards;  hence  the  earliest  date 
that  can  be  established  for  an  Italian  version  fixes  the  latest 
date  for  Tirso* s Burlador . 

As  already  shown  in  the  preceding  chapter,  the  original- 
ity of  our  play  has  also  been  questioned.  Aside  from  the  general 
discussion  of  the  sources  of  the  legend,  certain  plays  have  been 


. 


* L 

1? 


suggested  as  the  immediate  sources  of  this  one.  One  of  these  is 
the  Pineros  son  calidad,  by  Lope  de  Vega.  Fi tzmaurice-Kelly^7  ad- 
mits certain  points  of  resemblance  between  this  play  and  the  Bur- 
lador , but  goes  on  to  say  that  "these  resemblances  are  superficial, 
and  the  character  of  Don  Juan,  the  incarnation  of  perverse  sensu- 
ality and  arrogant  blasphemy,  may  be  considered  as  the  creation  of 
Tirso  de  Molina".  Waxman  (p.  190)  shows  that  the  Pineros  son  Ca- 
li dad  did  not  appear  till  1632,  while  Fi tzmaurice-Kelly  takes  it 
for  granted  that  it  appeared  before  1630.  Even  though  the  date  of 
the  first  appearance  of  the  Pineros  in  printed  form  was  1632,  it 
may  have  been  written  much  before  that,  and  available  to  a certain 
degree  in  manuscript  form.  But,  as  we  have  seen,  so  may  the  Bur- 
lador , and  this  proves  nothing,  one  way  or  the  other.  The  matter 
of  priority  is  really  of  very  slight  importance,  for  there  is  so 
little  similarity  in  the  two  plays  that  it  seems  extremely  im- 
probable that  Tirso  could  have  obtained  his  idea  from  Lope's  work. 
The  common  ground  is  an  animate  statue,  but  on  this  basis, Tirso * a 
idea  might  have  come  from  any  one  of  a great  number  of  literary 
works,  moving  statues  being  met  in  literature  even  as  far  back  as 
three  centuries  before  the  Christian  era.28 

Cervantes'  Rufian  dichoso  is  another  of  the  plays  more 
persistently  advanced  as  sources  of  the  Bur lador . The  common 
ground  here  is  a licentious  young  man  whose  family  connections 
render  him  immune  from  punishment  by  society.  Here  the  similarity 
ends,  for  the  protagonist  goes  to  America  and  becomes  a monk. 

There  are  no  seductions  related,  his  carousals  being  in  company 
with  public  women.  The  stone  guest  idea  does  not  enter  into  the 
play  at  all. 


’ 

. 


18 


The  sixteenth  century  Infamador  of  Juan  de  la  Cueva  de- 
picts the  fate  of  a wealthy  young  man  who  thinks  money  can  buy  any- 
thing. When  it  fails  to  secure  for  him  the  enjoyment  of  a certain 
woman  who  has  aroused  his  concupiscence,  he  attempts  to  work  his 
will  by  force,  on  two  occasions,  one  being  so  arranged  that  he  may 
be  discovered  at  such  a time  as  to  compromise  the  woman.  The  gods, 
or  rather,  certain  gods  and  goddesses,  take  sides  with  the  mortals, 
Diana,  the  virgin's  protector,  finally  triumphing  over  Venus  and 
the  despoiler  of  women's  honor.  The  latter  is  sentenced  to  be 
drowned  in  the  river  Betis,  which  rebels  at  this  affront  to  it;  he 
is  then  buried  alive.  Waxman  sees  in  this  play  the  first  literary 
expression  of  the  same  legend  that  Tirso  later  incorporated  in  the 
first  part  of  the  Burlador . He  emphatically  says  that  he  does  not 
claim  that  the  latter  was  influenced  by  the  Infamador;  as  far  as 
he  knows,  Tirso  may  never  have  known  the  Infamador  at  all.  never- 
theless, he  is  absolutely  certain  that  both  are  reactions  upon  a 
legend  that  was  current  in  Seville  (p.  189).  His  slight  external 
evidence  is  unconvincing.  On  the  other  hand,  it  seems  to  me  that 
the  internal  evidence  bears  very  strongly  against  any  such  suppo- 
sition. Don  Juan  is  utterly  different  from  Leucino.  The  former 
went  into  his  amours  for  mere  love  of  the  adventure;  the  latter 
would  buy  animal  gratification.  Don  Juan  accomplished  all  by  his 
personal  magnetism  and  power  of  persuasion;  Leucino  descended  to 
brute  force.  Don  Juan  suffered  a supernatural  punishment;  Leuci- 
no was  punished  as  the  angry  relatives  of  an  outraged  woman  might 
very  naturally  punish  a man  for  whom  an  easy  death  would  be  too 
merciful.  The  goddesses  in  the  Infamador  are  merely  symbolical  of 
right  and  wrong,  of  carnal  passion  and  virgin  chastity;  God's  dis- 


\ 


t 


19 


approval  of  sin  is  not  specifically  set  forth  as  it  is  in  the  Bur- 
lacior . Under  close  examination,  the  superficial  similarity  be- 
tween uon  Juan  and  Leucino  disappears  entirely,  and  as  this  is 
positively  the  only  element  of  similarity  in  the  two  plays.  Pro- 
fessor Waxman ' s position  seems  to  me  untenable.  He  does  not,  how- 
ever, it  must  be  said,  deny  Tirso's  originality,  which  is  now  gen- 
erally conceded. 

So  profound  a scholar  as  Mengndez  y Pelayo  has  written29 
these  words:  "The  Burlador  must  have  been  most  popular  from  the 
moment  of  its  appearance  — as  popular  as  Don  Juan  Tenorio  is  to- 
day." I cannot  forbear  asking  why  "aebi6  de  serlo".  It  is  doubt- 
ful that  a play  could  be  as  popular  as  Zorrilla's  without  leaving 
more  evidence  of  it  than  seems  to  be  the  case  with  regard  to  the 
Burlador.  Adolfo  de  Castro  saysc5°  that  it  is  scarcely  mentioned 
in  the  seventeenth  century,  and  the  probability  is  that  its  popu- 
larity was  by  no  means  extraordinary.  If  Menendez  y Pelayo  had 
qualified  his  statement  by  saying  "in  France  and  in  Italy",  it 
might  stand  unchallenged,  but  hardly  if  applied  to  Spain.  It  is 
true  that  there  are  the  copy  by  Claramonte  and  the  imitation  by 
Cordoba,  both  in  this  century,  but  they  do  not  prove  that  the  orig- 
inal was  as  popular  as  Zorrilla's  play  is  now. 

The  plot  of  the  Burlador  is  quite  simple;  it  is  almost, 
as  Farinelli  says,  a series  of  disconnected  episodes.  Neverthe- 
less, for  the  purposes  of  later  comparison  with  other  versions  of 
the  legend  based  on  Tirso’s,  it  will  be  well  to  have  before  us  a 
detailed  synopsis  of  the  argument.  Gendarme  de  Bevotte  has  told 
the  story  in  a highly  pleasing  manner,  and  I shall  use  his  synop- 
sis.'^ it  is  as  follows: 


V 


. 


. . . 


■ 


20 

"Italy  first,  then  Seville  and  its  environs,  are 
the  scene  of  the  exploits  of  the  gallant  nobleman  who  asks 
the  peasant  girl  as  well  as  the  court  lady  to  administer  to, 
without  ever  assuaging,  his  insatiable  need  of  love.  Obliged 
to  leave  Spain  to  escape  the  consequences  of  a disagreeable 
escapade,  he  renews  his  amorous  exploits  in  Naples,  and,  when 
the  play  begins,  he  appears  from  the  first  scene  in  his  role 
of  unscrupulous  seducer.  In  order  to  succeed  with  a girl  of 
high  rank.  Duchess  Isabela,  he  has  taken  the  name  and  cloak 
of  Duke  Octavio,  her  fiance;  he  has  thus  been  able  to  take 
advantage  of  her  in  the  very  palace  of  the  King  of  Naples, 
and,  under  cover  cf  darkness,  he  is  seeking  to  escape.  But 
his  victim  has  recognized,  too  late,  her  mistake;  at  the 
cries  which  she  utters,  the  King  comes  up  and  has  the  guilty 
one  arrested  by  the  Spanish  ambassador,  Don  Pedro  Tenor io, 
the  uncle,  indeed,  of  Don  Juan.  ...  Recognized  by  his  uncle, 
Don  Juan  obtains  the  former’s  silence  and  escapes  by  way  of 
the  balcony,  while  Don  Pedro  mocks  the  King  with  a dramatic 
story  of  escape  and  places  the  outrage  to  Duke  Octavio’s  ac- 
count. The  next  day,  while  the  latter,  in  a style  inspired 
by  Gongora,  entertains  his  lackey  Ripio  with  his  amours,  the 
ambassador  comes  to  tell  him  of  the  events  of  the  preceding 
night,  of  the  suspicions  that  hang  over  him,  and  to  urge  him 
to  flee  as  quickly  as  ever  he  can.  This  is  what  Don  Juan  has 
already  done,  for,  accompanied  by  his  valet  Catalindn,  he  has 
put  the  sea  between  Naples  and  himself. 

”A  storm  casts  him  up  on  the  coast  of  Spain  oppo- 
site Tarragona.  There  a young  fisher  maiden,  Tisbea,  in  lan- 


■ 


. 


21 


guage  as  graceful  as  it  is  affected,  is  singing  the  joys  of  a 
heart  free  from  the  tyrannies  of  love,  when  suddenly  she  sees 
two  castaways  stranded  on  the  beach.  One  of  them  is  uncon- 
scious; it  is  Don  Juan.  His  unconsciousness  does  not  resist 
a woman's  voice  any  longer  than  Tlsbea's  heart  does  the  sight 
of  the  handsome  cavalier.  A conversation  full  of  repartee 
and  witticisms  ensues  between  the  gentleman  and  the  pretty 
fisher  maiden.  . . . 

"While  Don  Juan  is  triumphing  over  the  girl,  the 
scene  takes  us  to  Seville  where  the  Comendador  Ulloa  is  re- 
porting to  the  King  the  details  of  his  mission  to  Lisbon  and 
describing  this  city  at  length.  ...  The  King,  learning  from 
the  Comendador  that  he  has  a daughter,  Dona  Ana,  proposes  to 
him  that  she  be  married  to  Don  Juan. 

"The  latter,  already  tired  of  his  easy  conquest, 
has  departed  from  Tarragona,  leaving  Tisbea,  in  spite  of  the 
wise  remonstrances  of  his  valet,  to  pour  forth  to  the  waves 
of  the  sea  her  bombastic  lamentations  over  her  betrayed  love. 
The  seducer  then  hastily  gains  Seville,  whither  the  news  of 
his  adventure  in  Italy  has  preceded  him.  His  father  has  been 
informed  of  it  by  a letter  from  Don  Pedro.  The  King,  like- 
wise forewarned,  has  a mind  to  repair  the  evil  by  the  mar- 
riage of  Don  Juan  with  Duchess  Isabela.  Meanwhile,  the 
guilty  one  will  go  away  and  expiate  his  misconduct  in  an  ex- 
ile of  some  length  in  Lebrija.  As  for  Doha  Ana,  she  will 
find  compensation  in  a union  with  Duke  Octavio,  who  himself 
arrives  just  in  time  to  replace  the  husband  she  is  losing. 

"But  Ana  already  has  an  intrigue  with  her  cousin. 


22 


the  Marques  de  la  Mota.  The  latter,  meeting  Don  Juan,  his 
former  companion  in  pleasure,  allows  himself  to  speak  to  him 
of  his  amours  and  confides  to  him  that  he  has  a rendezvous 
with  the  young  lady  that  very  evening.  Behold  Don  Juan  im- 
mediately seized  with  the  desire  to  repeat  the  adventure  in 
which  he  has  succeeded  so  well  in  Naples.  He  is  thinking 
over  the  means  of  bringing  the  undertaking  to  a happy  conclu- 
sion, when  he  meets  his  father,  who  reproaches  him  severely, 
and  threatens  him,  if  he  does  not  amend  his  ways,  with  the 
wrath  of  Heaven.  This  admonition  does  not  hinder  him  from 
executing  his  amorous  project.  He  enters  Doha  Ana's  apart- 
ment; but  he  comes  out  again  almost  immediately,  followed  by 
the  young  lady,  who  has  discovered  the  deception.  The  Comen- 
dador  rushes  up  at  his  daughter's  cries  and  tries  in  vain  to 
arrest  the  ravisher.  Don  Juan  thrusts  him  through  with  his 
sword  and  flees,  accompanied  by  the  curse  of  the  dying  old 
man.  The  tumult  draws  to  the  palace  the  elder  Tenorio  and 
the  King,  who,  meeting  the  Marques  de  la  Mota,  take  him  for 
the  guilty  one  and  arrest  him. 

"During  this  time  Don  Juan  betakes  himself  to  Le- 
brija,  where  the  sight  of  a rural  wedding  has  speedily  caused 
him  to  forget  this  bloody  adventure.  The  rustic  charm  of 
Aminta  in  holiday  garb,  the  thought  of  the  happiness  that  her 
husband  is  soon  going  to  enjoy  with  her,  excite  the  young 
gallant's  desires.  He  makes  love  to  the  young  bride  and  sows 
the  seeds  of  discord  in  her  heart.  In  order  to  rid  himself 
of  the  husband,  he  tries  to  trouble  his  honor  by  claiming 
previous  rights  over  his  wife.  As  for  the  father,  Don  Juan 


. 


easily  wins  him  over  through  vanity  by  asking  him  for  the 
hand  of  his  daughter.  While  the  latter,  uneasy  and  doubtful, 
is  waiting  for  her  real  husband,  Don  Juan,  in  spite  of  the 
advice  of  Catalinbn,  already  has  the  horses  which  are  to  take 
him  away  early  the  next  morning  made  ready.  Then  he  enters 
the  young  woman’s  room.  She,  frightened  at  first,  surrenders 
quickly  enough  when  her  perfidious  suitor  gives  his  solemn 
oath  to  marry  her. 

"This  deception  will  be  the  last.  Already  his  vic- 
tims are  coming  from  every  direction,  clamoring  for  justice. 
Isabela,  just  arrived  from  Naples,  brings  with  her  Tisbea, 
whom  she  has  met  on  the  way,  and  who  has  told  her  the  sad 
story  of  her  seduction.  Don  Juan  himself,  drawn  on  by  his 
destiny,  comes  to  meet  half  way  the  punishment  which  Heaven 
is  reserving  for  him.  He  has  returned  to  Seville  like  the 
murderer  drawn  toward  the  scene  of  his  crime.  The  premoni- 
tory signs  of  his  punishment  are  gathering  about  him.  But  he 
braves  the  danger,  and  after  having  outraged  the  living,  he 
goes  and  provokes  the  dead.  His  steps  lead  him  toward  a chap- 
el which  contains  the  tomb  of  the  Comenaador  Ulloa.  He  reads 
the  epitaph  carved  on  the  pedestal: 

"THE  MOST  LOYAL  KNIGHT  HERE  AWAITS  GOD'S 
VENGEANCE  UPON  A TRAITOR.  (Ill,  10) 

"This  epithet  makes  him  angry.  He  pulls  the  stat- 
ue’s beard,  and  then  ironically  invites  him  to  supper,  while, 
sword  in  hand,  promising  satisfaction.  Once  again  in  his 
hostelry,  he  is  sitting  down  at  table  when  some  one  knocks  at 
the  door.  A valet  who  has  gone  to  open  the  door  returns  with 


- 

. 

\ 

. 

J.. 


. 


24 


teeth  chattering,  unable  to  say  a word.  Don  Juan  has  under- 
stood, and  his  anger  against  the  lackey  betrays  the  emotion 
that  comes  over  him  without  his  being  willing  to  admit  it. 

He  sends  Catalin<5n,  who  also  has  guessed  what  mysterious 
guest  seeks  to  enter.  In  spite  of  himself,  Catalin6n  goes  to 
the  door,  but  comes  running  back  and  falls,  overcome  by 
fright.  A few  inarticulate  words  come  from  his  lips;  he  can- 
not tell  what  he  has  seen.  ... 

"Don  Juan  takes  the  light  and  goes  to  see.  Before 
him  stands  the  statue  of  the  Comendador . He  takes  a step 
backward,  draws  his  sword,  and  slowly  recedes  before  the  stat- 
ue, which  advances.  Soon  he  regains  possession  of  himself 
and  invites  the  Comendador  to  be  seated.  He  calls  for  music 
and  singing,  forcing  himself  to  appear  care-free  and  merry, 
until  the  moment  when  the  statue,  at  first  silent,  makes  a 
sign  that  it  desires  to  be  alone  with  its  host.  Then  Don 
Juan  no  longer  hides  his  perturbation.  He  addresses  the  dead 
man  with  some  troubled  questions  in  which  uneasiness  over  the 
future  life  is  betrayed.  Without  answering,  the  statue  in- 
vites him  to  come  and  have  supper  the  following  day  in  its 
chapel.  Don  Juan  pledges  the  word  of  a Tenorio,  controlling 
himself  to  such  a degree  that  the  Comendador  looks  at  him; 
but  the  statue  leaves,  and  then  his  terror  bursts  out  in 
spite  of  him.  His  body  is  bathed  in  perspiration.  He  al- 
ready feels  something  like  the  burning  of  hell.  Nevertheless, 
his  pride  makes  him  ashamed  of  his  weakness.  He  will  answer 
the  invitation. 

"Meanwhile,  the  truth  about  Don  Juan's  activities 


. 

• 

25 


1 


begins  to  be  known.  Octavio  has  learned  that  he  is  the  rav- 
isher  of  Isabela,  and  comes  to  ask  the  King  for  permission  to 
challenge  him.  The  elder  Tenorio,  who  is  still  ignorant  of 
most  of  the  crimes  of  his  son,  takes  up  the  challenge.  Then 
ensues  a quarrel,  which  the  King  settles.  But  events  favor 
Octavio;  here  is  Aminta,  who  comes  with  her  father  to  demand 
the  performance  of  the  wedding  ceremony,  and  Octavio,  to  whom 
she  addresses  herself,  plans  to  profit  by  this  proceeding, 
while  the  King  hastens  the  union  of  Isabela  with  Don  Juan. 

"The  latter's  fortune  seems  to  rally  for  a moment; 
he  himself  regains  confidence.  The  King  has  given  him  a good 
reception,  and  that  very  night  his  wedding  is  to  be  consum- 
mated. But  first  it  is  necessary  that  he  comply  with  the  Co- 
mendador's  invitation.  Indeed,  he  is  in  the  chapel  at  the 
appointed  time.  The  statue  is  waiting  for  him  and  has  him 
sit  down  at  a black  table,  where  scorpions  and  vipers  are 
served.  At  first  Don  Juan  maintains  a good  countenance  be- 
fore this  "appareil  macabre";  but  some  voices,  which  come  to 
his  ears  and  sing  of  the  punishment  of  the  wicked,  begin  to 
trouble  him:  the  hour  of  divine  vengeance  has  come.  The  stat- 
ue gets  up;  it  takes  the  hand  of  Don  Juan,  whom  it  burns  with 
a hellish  fire.  The  hero  utters  a final  threatening  cry  and 
seizes  his  sword;  but  his  pride,  broken  at  last,  becomes  hum- 
ble. The  fear  of  hell  enters  his  heart.  He  wishes  to  die  in 
a state  of  grace  and  asks  for  a priest.  There  is  no  longer 
time.  The  statue  drags  him  down;  men  and  Heaven  are  satis- 
fied. Meantime,  the  clamor  of  the  victims  is  still  resound- 
ing; all  together  they  are  besieging  the  King’s  palace,  de- 


4 

' 


. 


. 

. 


. 


26 


manding  justice,  when  Catalinbn  arrives  and  recounts  the  su- 
pernatural end  of  his  master.  This  death  permits  the  mar- 
riage of  Duke  Octavio  with  Isabela,  and  that  of  the  Marques 
de  la  Mota  with  Doha  Ana.  As  for  the  peasant  Patricio,  he 
again  comes  into  possession  of  Aminta." 

In  the  words  of  Picatoste  (p.  106),  "Such  is  the  immor- 
tal legend,  which  repetition  has  given  to  the  world,  and  which  has 
everywhere  been  the  object  of  applause  and  of  the  study  of  poets, 
of  writers,  and  of  philosophers.  Such  is  the  admirable  creation 
of  Tirso  de  Molina". 

Let  us  examine  more  closely  the  characteristics  of  the 
protagonist.  Pi  y Margall  gives,  in  his  Observaciones  (pp.  xiii- 
xxvi ) , a keen  analysis  of  the  character,  which  I summarize  here. 

Don  Juan  is  a genteel  and  fascinating  youth  who  seeks  his  pleas- 
ure in  winning  the  hearts  of  women.  He  is  jealous  of  his  honor, 
and  exceedingly  brave.  He  is  not  a man  of  passion:  he  neither 
loves  nor  hates;  he  kills  only  to  attain  his  ends,  and  then  only 
on  the  spur  of  the  moment.  His  sword  and  his  personal  charms  are 
his  only  two  weapons,  for  two  distinct  purposes;  he  has  no  faith- 
ful guard  for  the  one,  nor  gems  nor  jewels  for  the  other.  He  is 
not  a brawler:  he  uses  his  sword  only  in  self-defense.  He  is  in- 
corrigible: advice  and  warnings  receive  scant  attention  from  him. 

He  lies  and  deceives,  but  only  for  one  purpose;  it  is  not  to  at- 
tenuate his  faults.  He  is  not  an  "impio":  he  believes  in  God,  in 
the  immortality  of  the  soul,  in  heaven  and  in  hell,  in  the  effi- 
cacy of  confession,  and  in  the  power  of  the  Church,  through  prayer, 
to  save  souls  that  have  died  in  sin.  "Honor  and  pleasure:  such 
are  the  axes  on  which  revolves  the  character  of  the  original  Don 


. . 


. ■' 

. 

. 

■ 

■■ 

. 


' 

. 


27 


Juan  Tenor io”  (p.  xxi). 

It  is  evident  that  Don  Juan  has  a certain  undeniable 
"caballerosidad" . He  is  not  the  "rufian"  whom  Cervantes  shows  us, 
nor  the  insolently  domineering  profligate  of  Cueva's  picture.  He 
is  of  a noble  family,  and  his  adventures  take  him  into  the  palaces 
of  kings  as  well  as  into  the  huts  of  fishermen  and  peasants.  He 
is,  as  depicted  by  Tirso,  a faithful  representation  of  one  of  the 
many  young  men  of  his  time,  who  were  easily  led  into  lives  of  li- 
centiousness and  excess  by  the  customs  of  the  epoch,  by  the  con- 
tinual state  of  war,  which  always  produces  every  kind  of  excess, 
and  by  the  ideas  and  education  of  the  nobility,  who  disregarded 
the  honor  of  the  lower  classes  and  considered  seductions  of  women 
of  the  upper  classes  as  triumphs. Picatoste  thinks  it  was  not 
by  chance  that  Tirso  made  his  protagonist  thus.  Being  a priest, 
his  purpose  was  to  discourage  licentiousness.  There  was  more  of 
it  among  the  nobility  of  the  time  than  among  the  common  people; 
hence  his  character.  The  author’s  purpose,  likewise,  was  to  show 
that  divine  justice  has  no  favorites  — that  the  young  man  of  no- 
ble family,  endowed  with  all  the  characteristics  that  cause  ad- 
miration and  sympathy  in  the  "crowd",  such  as  a charming  manner 
and  an  admirable  fearlessness,  must  pay  the  price  of  his  indul- 
gence as  surely  as  the  "rufian",  for  whose  vices  excuses  are  not 
so  readily  advanced. 

Certainly  the  character  is  not  a moral  one,  though  it  is 
a true  one  in  every  respect,  as  Pi  y Margall  has  pointed  out  (p. 
xxvii);  the  work  as  a whole,  on  the  other  hand,  is  moral  and 
Christian.  It  has  undergone  changes  in  its  reproduction  through 
the  centuries,  as  we  shall  see  in  considering  the  later  dramas, 


' 


. 


>• 


. 


. 


28 


but  in  Spain,  at  least,  the  moral  idea  seems  to  have  remained  dom 
inant,  and  I believe  accounts  for  its  continued  and  increasing 
popularity . 


IV.  L TAN  LARGO  ME  LO  FIAIS? 


About  1878  the  distinguished  Spanish  bibliophile  and 
writer,  Feliciano  Ramirez  de  Avellano,  the  Marques  de  Fuensanta 
del  Valle,  discovered  a play  entitled  £Tan  largo  me  lo  fiais?  Co- 
media  famosa.  De  Don  Pedro  Calderbn.1*  It  showed  neither  place  nor 
date  of  printing,  but  had  been  printed  in  the  first  half  of  the 
seventeenth  century,  in  the  opinion  of  the  discoverer.33  Basing 
his  opinion  upon  the  kind  of  paper,  the  style  of  type,  the  manner 
of  publication,  and  the  fact  that  it  was  ascribed  to  Calderbn,  Co- 
tarelo  y Mori  asserts  that  it  was  most  likely  printed  as  late  as 
1660.  Although  the  title  page  bears  the  name  of  Calder6n  as  the 
author,  none  of  the  critics  seems  to  have  been  willing  to  accept 
this  statement  as  fact.  Cotarelo's  opinion  that  the  play  is  noth- 
ing more  than  a plagiarism  of  the  Burlador  has  been  accepted  as  an 
obvious  fact,3^  and  friends  of  Calder6n,  as  well  as  less  partisan 


*This  is  the  statement  made  by  Cotarelo  in  1893  ( Tirso 
de  Molina,  p.  118,  note).  In  1907,  when  he  published  the  second 
volume  of  Comedias  de  Tirso  de  Molina,  he  wrote  (p.  vii),  "Hallo 
D.  Jose  Sancho  Ray6n  esta  comedia  en  una  edicidn  suelta  por  los 
afios  de  1878  y apresur6  a darla  a conocer  al  publico  en  el  tomo 
XII  de  su  Coleccidn  de  llbros  espanoles  raros  y curiosos".  Sancho 
Ray<5n  and  the  Marques  de  Fuensanta  del  Valle  were  evidently  asso- 
ciated in  the  publishing  of  the  Coleccidn , and  this  perhaps  ac- 
counts for  the  confusion  of  names.  Waxman  (p.  191)  names  a dif- 
ferent man,  the  critic  Manuel  de  la  Revilla,  and  says  definitely 
that  the  "comedia”  was  discovered  in  1878  and  published  in  Madrid 
in  1657.  He  does  not  give  his  authority,  and  I have  been  unable 
to  find  the  source  of  his  statement.  Some  of  Revilla's  opinions 
seem  to  be  based  upon  the  Marques'  statement  that  the  "comedia" 
was  probably  printed  in  the  first  half  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
and  therefore  it  seems  very  likely  that  it  did  not  come  to  light 
through  Revilla. 

— 29 


. 

• 

■ 


. 


. 


30 


critics,  have  been  active  in  trying  to  prove  that  it  could  not  be 
his  work.  It  will  scarcely  be  denied  by  the  impartial  critic  that 
Calderdn  did,  on  occasion, borrow  scenes  from  other  authors,  but 
the  critics  whose  opinions  I have  found  have  been  unwilling  to  be- 
lieve him  guilty  of  the  perpetration  of  a "wholesale  steal"  such 
as  this  evidently  is.^  Revilla  believed  that  the  Tan  lax go  was 
Tireo’s  own  work  and  the  Burlador  a later  "redaccidn"  of  it.  He 
considered  as  proof  of  this  hypothesis  the  fact  that  in  the  latter 
the  word  "burlador"  almost  entirely  replaces  the  "poco  decente  ga- 
randn",  which  occurs  frequently  in  the  Tan  largo,  and  the  fact 
that  a description  of  Lisbon  had  replaced  a description  of  Seville. 
Cotar elo’s  counter  proposal  that  "garanbn"  was  substituted  for 
"burlador"  to  make  the  plagiarism  less  obvious  is  the  more  plaus- 
ible, it  seems  to  me,  in  connection  with  other  points  to  which  he 
calls  attention.  It  is  his  opinion  that  the  long  description  of 
Seville  in  the  Tan  largo  is  not  in  Tirso's  style,  but  that  the  eu- 
logy of  Lisbon  in  the  Burlador  is  in  his  style  and  furthermore  is 
in  keeping  with  his  already  known  habit  of  celebrating  Portuguese 
cities,  especially  the  capital.  Also,  he  continues,  in  1630,  the 
date  of  the  first  printed  edition  of  the  Burlador , none  of  Calde- 
rdn's  plays  had  been  published,  and  he  could  not  have  had  a repu- 
tation sufficiently  great  to  have  had  some  one  else's  play  attrib- 
uted to  him.  If  the  play  in  question  had  been  of  about  this  time 
it  would  probably  have  been  assigned  to  Lope.  It  must  have  been 
considerably  later  that  it  was  printed,  and  Cotarelo  doubts  that 
it  could  have  been  less  than  twenty  years  later.3® 

If  neither  Tirso  nor  Calderdn  wrote  the  Tan  largo . who 
did?  Probably  some  one  whose  name  resembled,  to  some  extent.  Cal- 


■ 

.«  . ! 


' 


31 


der6n's;  probably  some  one  who  was  a "sevillano  o hispalofilo  (pa- 
se  la  palabra)";  probably  some  one  who  is  known  to  have  plagiarized 
other  works:  Andres  de  Claramonte,  "vecino  de  Sevilla",  whose  name 
was  so  linked  with  literary  pilfering  that  Alarcbn's  friends 
thought  the  greatest  insult  they  could  hurl  at  him  was  to  call  him 
a "second  Claramonte" , in  punishment  for  having  made  use  of  the 
work  of  others'  pens. 

Cotarelo  writes,3^  "It  cannot  be  considered  as  an  imi- 
tation or  a "r efundicion" , but  as  El  Burlador  itself,  with  some 
verses  changed".  Elsewhere  he  says40  that  theme,  characters,  and 
development  of  the  action  are  the  same,  and  even  nine- tenths  of 
the  verses  in  the  Burlador  are  copied  in  the  Tan  largo.  Some  of 
the  scenes  are  run  together  in  the  Tan  largo  so  that  there  are 
fewer  scenes  in  it  than  in  the  Burlador . Waxman  says  (p.  191) 
that  there  are  also  fewer  characters  named,  some  of  the  minor  ones 
being  designated  as  "pastores",  "villanos",  "criados",  and  so  on, 
instead  of  being  given  names.  His  opinion  can  only  have  been 
formed  from  consulting  the  list  of  characters  preceding  the  play 
as  printed  in  the  1878  edition,  where  only  sixteen  are  named.  Ex- 
amination of  the  play  itself,  however,  shows  twenty-one  names. 
Therefore,  it  has  exactly  the  same  number  of  named  characters  as 
appear  in  the  Burlador , but  some  of  the  names  are  slightly  differ- 
ent, as  for  instance,  Don  Juan's  father  is  also  named  Juan  instead 
of  Diego;  the  fisher  maiden  is  called  Trisbea  instead  of  Tisbea; 
and  Aminta  of  the  Burlador  becomes  Arminta,  while  the  Duke  is  Oc- 
tavio and  Otavio  respectively.  Among  the  shepherds,  the  Bur lador 
names  Felisa,  Anfriso,  and  Corid6n,  only  Anfriso  being  found  in 
the  Tan  largo.  Taking  the  places  of  the  other  two,  however,  are 

a- — - J 


» 

. 

. 


• 

. 

32 


three  names  not  found  in  the  Burlador , namely,  Salucio,  Alfredo, 
and  Tirseo.  There  is  an  additional  named  "criada",  Dona  Ana,  in 
the  Tan  largo,  but  Isabela's  and  Octavio's  servants,  Fabio  and  Ri- 


pio  in  the  Burlador , are  left  unnamed  in  the  former.  The  names  of 
characters  are  otherwise  the  same. 

In  the  plot,  nothing  has  been  changed,  but  the  telling 
of  it  has  been  shortened  in  the  Tan  largo  in  two  places,  both  near 
the  end.  The  three  scenes  in  the  Burlador  (16,  17,  and  18  of  Act 
III)  between  Don  Juan's  conversation  with  the  statue  of  Don  Gon- 
zalo,  at  the  time  of  his  acceptance  of  the  return  invitation,  and 
his  next  conversation  with  Catalindn,  are  shortened  to  something 
like  fifty  verses  in  the  Tan  largo  (p.  104),  and  scenes  21  to  26 
inclusive,  that  is,  the  rest  of  the  play,  are  shortened  to  about 
eighty  or  ninety  verses  (p.  111).  As  I have  said,  this  causes  ab- 
solutely no  change  in  the  events  or  in  their  sequence.  The  other 
chief  difference  between  the  two  plays  has  been  mentioned  above. 
The  Burlador  contains  in  the  first  act  (vv.  722  ss.)  a long  speech 
of  136  verses  by  Don  Gonzalo  laudatory  of  Lisbon.  This  does  not 
occur  in  the  Tan  largo,  but  in  its  stead,  the  second  act  contains 
a description  of  Seville  (pp.  42-50),  261  verses  long,  very  appro- 
priately delivered  by  Don  Juan,  "sevillano" . This  difference, 
likewise,  has  nothing  to  de  with  events  of  the  play  or  their  se- 
quence. It  might  be  mentioned  here  that  the  divisions  are  called 
"act os"  in  the  Burlador  and  "jornadas"  in  the  Tan  largo. 

There  is  very  little  more  reason,  it  seems  to  me,  for 
calling  this  play  <LTan  largo  me  lo  fiais?  than  Tirso's.  Cotare- 
lo4^-  calls  the  "mania"  for  writing  the  phrase  a justification  of 
the  title,  and  criticises  the  use  of  this  single  form  which,  he 


. 


33 


says,  is  many  times  not  appropriate.  As  a matter  of  fact,  the 
phrase  occurs  in  question  form  five  times  (pp.  9,  32,  33,  34,  and 
61),  without  the  question  marks  three  times  (pp.  83,  86,  and  97), 
and  in  one  of  these  latter  cases  it  is  preceded  by  "Si"  (p.  86). 
Twice  it  appears  (in  a song  by  the  "musicos")  a6  "Ique  largo  me  lo 
fiais!"  (p.  100).  Cotarelo  says  that  the  Bur lador  varies  the 
phrase  according  to  the  context  in  which  it  appears.  Let  us  see 
how  much  more  variation  it  has  here  than  in  the  Tan  largo.  The 
question  form,  it  is  true,  appears  only  once  (II,  404)  in  the  for- 
mer, and  the  form  not  used  as  a question  appears  twice  (III,  182; 
III,  473),  once  being  preceded  by  "Si"  (III,  182)  as  in  the  Tan 
largo . But  the  exclamatory  form,  "Ique  largo  me  lo  fiais!",  is 
found  in  the  Bur lador  six  times  (I,  906,  946,  962;  III,  585,  601, 
940),  more  often,  in  fact,  than  any  single  form  is  found  in  the 
Tan  largo . Tirso  uses  these  three  expressions  nine  times,  the  Tan 
largo  but  once  more.  Cotarelo's  opinion  that  they  do  not  always 
seem  to  be  appropriate  is  probably  true,  but  as  true  of  the  Bur la- 
bor as  of  the  Tan  largo.  In  extenuation  of  the  former,  however, 
it  ought  to  be  said  that  such  versions  of  it  as  exist  are  evident- 
ly very  imperfect. 

Nothing  more  needs  to  be  said  of  the  Tan  largo.  The  dif- 
ferences in  form  have  been  noted,  and  there  are  no  differences  in 
the  characters  in  the  two  plays.  Although  printed  early,  the  Tan 
lar go  seems  to  have  been  practically  unknown,  and  a copy  found  in 
the  last  quarter  of  the  nineteenth  century  was  regarded  almost  as 
a new  discovery.  Hence  it  probably  had  little  effect  on  the 
spread  of  the  Don  Juan  legend,  and  even  now  its  only  value  lies  in 
the  use  that  may  be  made  of  it  in  making  textual  corrections  of 


. 

. 


V.  LA  VENGANZA  ENEL  SEPULCRO 


According  to  Franquesa  y Gomis,42  L§^Jeng^a_jn_e2_se- 
pulcro  is,  in  the  light  of  the  best  information  available,  of  the 
seventeenth  century,  and  not  earlier  than  the  second  half  of  it. 

He  calls  attention  to  the  fact  that  the  author  says  "antiguamente" 
in  alluding  to  El  Burlador,  which  was  published  in  1630.  In  Fran- 
quesa1 s opinion,  however,  the  strongest  argument  for  assigning  the 
play  to  the  latter  part  of  the  century  is  the  language  and  the 
style,  both  of  which  point  to  a period  of  decadence  in  literary 
work. 

The  play  was  not  printed  until  1907,  when  Cotarelo  in- 
cluded it  in  the  appendix  to  his  second  volume  of  Tirso's  plays.43 
The  manuscript,  which  is  now  in  the  National  Library  at  Madrid, 
gives  the  author's  name  as  D.  Alonso  de  C6rdoba  y Maldonado,  about 
whom  practically  nothing  is  known.  Whether  or  not  the  play  had 
any  degree  of  popularity  is  equally  unknown,  and  it  is  likely  that 
it  is  one  of  few  things  that  the  author  wrote.  It  is  certain  that 
he  attained  no  celebrity,  for  if  he  had,  he  would  not  be  so  entire- 
ly unknown.  His  treatment  of  the  theme  before  us  leads  Franquesa 
to  the  conclusion  that  he  had  little  literary  ability,  and  from  a 
synopsis  of  the  play  we  may  easily  see  that  he  has  added  nothing 
new  to  the  Don  Juan  legend.  La  Venganza  is  obviously  based  on 
Tirso's  Burlador.  but  its  merit,  even  when  compared  with  the  weak 
production  of  Zamora,  is  negligible,  and  it  deserves  to  be  studied 
only  because  it  preceded  Zamora's  attempt,  and  is  a link  in  the 


36 


chain  of  Don  Juan  versions. 

The  ’’Cornelia"  is  in  three  acts, called  "jornadas",  of 
somewhat  irregular  length,  the  first  being  considerably  longer 
than  either  of  the  other  two.  The  characters  are:  Don  Juan  Teno- 
rio,  Colch6n  ( "gracioso" ) , the  Marques  de  la  Mota,  D.  Gonzalo  de 
Ulloa,  the  Asistente,  an  Alcaide,  an  Alguacil,  Dona  Ana,  In4s  (a 
servant),  two  other  servants,  "acompanamiento" , and  musicians. 
Franquesa  observes  that  the  number  of  characters  is  indeed  inade- 
quate to  reconstruct  Tirso's  play.  It  will  be  noticed  that  there 
is  only  one  woman  in  the  action,  and  that  therefore  Don  Juan’s  am- 
orous undertakings  are  necessarily  much  curtailed.  The  story  of 
the  play  is  as  follows,  for  the  most  part  closely  translated  from 
Franquesa: 

"DoHa  Ana  de  Ulloa,  daughter  of  Don  Gonzalo,  des- 
tined to  be  the  wife  of  the  Marques  de  la  Mota  within  a very 
few  days,  as  she  is  taking  a walk  with  her  maid  in  the  out- 
skirts of  Seville,  suddenly  finds  herself  pursued  by  Don  Juan 
Tenorio,  who,  after  a long  absence,  has  just  arrived  in  his 
native  city  to  take  possession  of  the  inheritance  from  his 

I 

father.  The  lady,  frightened  by  the  gallant's  sudden  appear- 
ance, tries  to  entertain  him  by  asking  for  a detailed  account 
of  his  life,  and  there  comes,  indeed,  a very  long  narration 
£291  versesj  of  such  stupendous  deeds  as  these:  the  flight 
from  the  paternal  home  at  the  age  of  fifteen;  his  sweet  noth- 
ings to  the  young  village  maiden  near  Toledo  who  had  just 
been  married,  which  provoked  an  attack  of  fifty  villagers 
jealous  of  the  honor  of  the  groom,  all  of  whom  he  disperses 
with  his  sword;  his  quarrel  with  a nobleman,  whose  death  a 


V :• 


’ 


37 


mob,  likewise  put  to  route  by  him  ‘a  estocada  limpia',  wishes 
to  avenge;  his  escape  to  the  mountains,  where  he  falls  in 
love  with  the  mountain  girl,  Celia,  who  prefers  a prince,  and 
is,  therefore,  the  cause  of  a new  murder;  his  flight  to  Eng- 
land and  Flanders,  where  he  destroys  four  hundred  enemies  who 
come  in  two  Dutch  ships,  etc.,  etc.,  etc.  Before  such  a hec- 
atomb, although  fad*  away,  and  before  the  brutal  threats  which 
Don  Juan  from  nearer  by  is  already  making  against  her,  if  she 
does  not  grant  him  her  hand,  Doha  Ana  tries  to  escape  from 
the  importunate  suitor  by  feigning  consent.  On  the  following 
day  Don  Juan  lacks  time  to  present  himself  at  the  house  of 
Don  Gonzalo  de  Ulloa,  whom  he  meets  leaving  with  the  Marques 
de  la  Mota,  the  future  husband  of  Doha  Ana.  Don  Juan  soon 
recognizes  the  powerful  motives  which  the  Marques  has  for 
frequenting  the  house,  and  upon  observing  that  Doha  Ana  runs 
away  at  sight  of  him,  and  that  she  deceived  him  with  false 
hopes  as  she  slipped  away  from  his  presence,  he  swears  that, 
in  marriage  or  otherwise,  he  must  have  her  that  very  night. 
When  night  comes,  he  lurks  in  the  street  to  wait  for  the  mo- 
ment to  enter  the  house  in  search  of  his  lady,  and  when  Don 
Gonzalo  appears,  he  proceeds  to  follow  him.  The  father,  an- 
noyed, intercepts  his  passage;  they  cross  swords,  and  the  old 
man  falls,  pierced  by  the  libertine’s  sword.  At  the  victim’s 
cries,  up  rushes  the  Marques,  who,  already  jealous,  had  also 
taken  a position  in  the  same  street;  Likewise  the  "Asisten- 
te",  accompanied  by  several  peace  officers,  arrives  in  order 
to  get  information  about  what  is  happening.  As  Don  Juan  by 
this  time  believes  it  would  be  imprudent  to  repeat,  against 


a 

m 


■ 


38 


so  many,  the  spectacle  of  his  heroic  thrusts,  and  thinks  it 
better  to  escape  with  his  servant,  the  "Asistente”  considers 
it  quite  certain  that  the  assassination  of  the  Comendador 
Ulloa  cannot  be  attributed  to  any  other  than  the  future  son- 
in-law,  who  is  found  there  alone  with  his  sword  unsheathed; 
therefore,  he  declares  the  Marques  de  la  Mota  a prisoner,  in 
spite  of  all  his  protests.”  Thus  ends  the  first  act. 

"The  second  begins  with  a new  interview  between  Don 
Juan  and  Doha  Ana.  The  latter,  who  entertains  certain  sus- 
picions that  the  Marques  is  not  her  father's  murderer,  now 
resents  with  greater  energy  the  wooings  of  the  lover,  who  on 
his  part  begins  to  feel  a real  passion  for  her,  a thing  which 
he  had  never  known  till  then.  ...  The  disconsolate  lady,  who 
for  the  present  has  only  ideas  of  vengeance,  feigns  to  ask 
the  enamoured  gallant  again  for  one  day's  time  before  giving 
him  her  hand." 

Then  the  Marques  appears  in  prison,  lamenting  his 
misfortunes.  Since  Dona  Ana's  greatest  desire  is  to  find  out 
whether  he  is  really  guilty  or  not,  together  with  her  maid, 
both  being  in  disguise,  she  enters  his  cell  and  easily  dis- 
covers to  her  satisfaction  that  he  is  innocent.  At  this 
juncture  Don  Juan  appears  ana  insolently  tries  to  tear  off 
the  disguises  the  women  are  wearing.  "The  jailer  runs  up  at 
their  cries,  and  then,  to  save  his  lady,  a very  ingenious 
idea  occurs  to  the  Marques,  tie  tells  Don  Juan  that  the  women 
are  no  more  nor  less  than  the  wife  and  maid  of  the  jailer, 
and  that  he  should  entertain  the  latter  while  they  disappear, 
if  he  would  preserve  their  honor;  Don  Juan  accedes  to  this. 


39 


though  not  without  ordering  Colchdn  to  follow  and  keep  an  eye 
on  them.  Soon  the  servant  returns,  announcing  that  they  have 
taken  refuge  in  the  church,  and  then  they  (master  and  servant) 
enter  also;  as  they  stop  to  examine  the  chapels,  'a  curtain 
is  drawn,  disclosing:  a well-made  and  decorated  senulchre^_ln 
which  may  he  seen  D.  Gonzalo  de  Ulloa.  as  in_olden_tjLmeR_the 

stone  guest  was  seen. There  is  also  an  inscription' . * Then 

comes  the  already  known  scene  of  the  invitation,  and  follow- 
ing thereon,  that  describing  the  famous  supper,  with  which 
the  second  act  closes." 

In  the  third  act,  the  story  continues  as  follows: 
"After  a severe  reprimand  which  the  "Asistente"  administers 
to  Don  Juan  for  having  disturbed  the  city  by  his  scandalous 
procedure,  although  without  saying  what  this  may  be,  the  lat- 
ter goes  and  demands  of  Doila  Ana  the  fulfillment  of  her  prom- 
ise. She  is  ready  to  keep  it,  but  upon  one  condition,  name- 
ly, that  before  she  becomes  his  wife  he  is  to  avenge  her  upon 
her  offender."  He  promises,  and  she  tells  him  that  it  is  he 
himself  who  has  offended  her  by  the  murder  of  her  father. 

What  follows  causes  her  to  cry  out,  and  the  "Asistente"  ar- 
rives "con  todo  el  acompanamiento  que  se  pueda;  but  this  time 
Don  Juan  gets  out  of  the  difficulty,  clearing  the  stage,  by 
means  of  his  saber  cuts,  of  all  that  extraordinary  multitude. 

. . . Little  remains  now:  new  lamentations  on  the  part  of  the 


*The  original  of  this  quotation  is  a stage  direction  in 
the  manuscript  (II,  10)  and  is  as  follows:  Correse  una  cortina; 
descubrese  un  sepulcro  bien  foraado  y adornado,  y en  el,  D.  Gon- 
zalo de  Ulloa,  como  se  vi6  el  convidado  de  piedra  antiguamente,  y 
hay  un  letrero. 


40 

Marques  in  his  unjust  imprisonment,  softened  only  by  a letter 
which  the  maid,  In6s,  brings  from  his  loved  one;  the  supper 
in  the  tomb  and  the  consequent  death  of  the  hero  amidst  the 
roll  of  thunder  and  flashes  of  lightning  (with  some  slight 
traces  of  poetry  born  of  the  matter  itself);  and  the  libera- 
tion of  the  Marques  by  decree  of  the  "Asistente" , who  ...  wit- 
nessed the  scene  of  the  tomb  and  knew  the  truth  about  the 
crime . " 

In  this  synopsis  we  can  see  several  differences  from  the 
play  of  Tirso.  These  are  mostly  in  the  character  of  the  protago- 
nist. As  has  been  observed  above,  Don  Juan's  love-making  has  been 
centered  upon  one  woman.  Moreover,  we  notice  that  the  love-mak- 
ing is  different  from  that  of  the  earlier  Don  Juan.  To  the  Don 
Juan  of  the  Burlador , all  women  looked  alike  except  the  one  whose 
charms  were  attracting  his  attention  for  the  moment,  and  she  in- 
variably went  the  way  of  all  before  her  — the  way  of  being  for- 
gotten by  her  erstwhile  importunate  suitor.  Tirso' s hero  had  no 
heart,  nothing  but  sensual  appetite.  It  has  been  generally  as- 
sumed that  all  Don  Juans  were  thus  until  Zorrilla  had  his  protago- 
nist  experience  real  affection  for  Doha  Ines.  It  seems  to  be  tak- 
en for  granted  that  this  Don  Juan's  vov/s  of  love  to  Doha  In6s,  and 
his  tears  at  her  grave  are  proof  of  deep-seated  fondness  for  her; 
his  cowardly  action  during  and  after  the  kidnapping,  however, 
would  seem  to  counteract  this  somewhat.  Even  if  we  admit  that  he 
really  loved  Doha  Ines  (and  I am  willing  to  do  so),  I find  that  he 
was  not  the  first  one  of  the  Don  Juan  family  to  experience  real 
love.  Cordoba's  Don  Juan,  something  like  two  centuries  earlier, 
fell  in  love  with  Doha  Ana.  In  this  case,  we  do  not  have  to  take 


- 

. 

* 


. I 


41 

as  evidence  Don  Juan's  avowals  to  Doha  Ana,  nor  statements  made 
under  the  stress  of  emotions  accompanying  a visit  to  her  tomb. 
Cdrdoba's  Bon  Juan  makes  the  admission  to  his  lackey  (I,  2),  with 
whom  he  has  everywhere  been  perfectly  frank,  as  have  all  the  ear- 
lier Don  Juans  with  their  lackeys.  This  seems  to  me  much  stronger 
evidence  than  can  be  cited  with  reference  to  Zorrilla'e  protago- 
nist . 

The  time  taken  up  in  the  Burlador  by  Don  Juan's  early 
amorous  exploits  is  here  given  over  to  a recital  by  the  hero  him- 
self of  his  deeds  of  valor  performed  all  over  Spain  and  in  foreign 
lands.  We  notice  that  these  are  by  no  means  confined  to  the  gentle 
art  of  seducing  women,  as  was  true  of  the  acts  of  the  original  Don 
Juan,  but  for  the  most  part  consist  in  performing  physical  feats 
that  would  have  tried  a Hercules.  C6rdoba  apparently  did  not 
catch  the  spirit  of  El  Burlador  de  Sevilla  in  any  sense.  Of  his 
opportunity  to  do  at  least  as  well  as  the  model  before  him,  Fran- 
quesa  makes  this  criticism:  "Not  even  the  presence  of  the  Comenda- 
dor,  nor  the  rash  resolution  of  the  protagonist  to  go  and  return 
his  visit  at  his  tomb,  suggests  to  Cordoba  anything  else  than  non- 
sense of  the  "gracioso"  and  ridiculous  boasts  of  Don  Juan,  who 
does  not  cease  in  the  whole  drama  to  exaggerate  his  valor  and  to 
consider  himself  as  very  superior  to  the  Cid,  the  worst  of  the 
matter  being  that  such  bravado,  uttered  in  a style  so  dispirited 
and  so  lacking  in  vigor,  does  not  succeed  in  ever  producing  a sin- 
gle phrase  which  may  impress  the  soul."  Elsewhere  (p.  267)  he 
says  that  as  for  the  portrayal  of  Don  Juan,  the  character  itself* 
proves  that  Tirso's  wonderful  sketch  did  not  serve  as  a precedent 
in  any  way,  and  that  "the  figure  of  the  'Burlador'  had,  then,  al- 


> 


. 

. • 


ready  become  insipid  in  its  native  Spain  in  the  very  century  in 
which  it  had  appeared”. 


42 


Of  the  play  as  such,  Franquesa  says,  "As  exposition  the 
first  act  would  not  go  badly  if  the  author  had  known  how  to  put 
more  animation  into  the  scenes  and  greater  liveliness  into  the 
dialogue.  This  same  lack  of  warmth,  which  is  the  greatest  defect 
in  the  drama,  can  be  noted  in  the  following  acts",  but  taken  all 
in  all,  the  second  act  is  the  best  planned  and  best  constructed 
part  of  the  work.  "The  last  act  is  the  poorest  in  incidents  and 
the  least  interesting  of  all." 


. 


I 


VI.  NO  HAY  PLAZO  QUE  NO  SE  CUMPLA 


Interest  in  the  Don  Juan  legend  did  not  die  out,  nor 
even  reach  a very  low  ebb,  in  the  eighteenth  century,  though  one 
would  be  disappointed  upon  looking  for  strong  evidence  of  a sus- 
tained interest  in  it  in  Spain,  the  birthplace  of  the  legend.  The 
only  literary  work  of  importance  that  was  produced  in  Spain  during 
the  century  is  that  of  Antonio  de  Zamora,  which  bears  the  title  No 
hay  plazo  que  no  se  cumpla  ni  deuda  que  no  se  pague,  y Convidado 
de  piedra,*  and  which,  in  the  word6  of  Mesonero  Romanos44  "popu- 
larizd  en  nuestra  escena  este  atrevido  argumento  iniciado  en  ella 
por  Tirso  de  Molina”.  Waxman  sees  in  this  unwieldy  title  an  il- 
lustration of  the  prolixity  of  the  whole  play  (p.  194).  It  was 
published  in  1744,  after  Zamora's  death,  in  the  second  volume  of  a 
collection  of  his  plays  entitled  Comedlas  de  Don  Antonio  de  Zamo- 
ra. The  date  of  its  composition  is  entirely  uncertain,  and  opin- 
ions on  this  point  differ  as  much  as  twenty-five  years.  Waxman 
thinks  it  was  written  about  1700,  that  is,  about  the  beginning  of 
his  literary  work,  though  I do  not  know  why  Waxman  thinks  it  was 
one  of  his  early  pieces.  At  any  rate,  the  date  has  not  been  de- 

*This  is  the  title  by  which  the  play  is  commonly  known, 
but  Cotarelo  y Mori  says  it  is  not  the  title  which  Zamora  gave  to 
his  work.  In  the  1744  edition  of  his  plays,  published  posthumous- 
ly (Vol.  II,  p.  267),  the  title  reads  No  hay  deuda  que  no  se  pague, 
y Convidado  de  piedra.  In  speaking  of  the  change  in  the  title 
made  by  Mesonero  Romanos  in  his  Dram^ticos  posteriores  a Lope  de 
Vega,  Vol.  XLIX  of  the  Biblioteca  de  Autores  Espanoles,  Cotarelo 
adds,  "asi  como  tambien  altero  algo  el  texto"  (Catalogo  razonado 
del  teatro  de  Tirso  de  Molina,  p.  ix). 


43 


. 


I' 


termined  with  certainty,  and  there  are  no  means  of  settling  it 
here. 

The  No  hay  plazo  is  frankly  a recasting  of  the  Burlador 
of  Tirso  de  Molina.  Moratfn,  one  of  the  few  who  express  a favor- 
able opinion  of  the  piece,  tells  us45  that  "Zamora  tried  to  work 
over  the  Burlador  de  Sevilla,  and  keeping  the  essential  part  of 
the  action,  he  took  out  of  it  the  useless  incidents;  he  gave  tc 
the  principal  character  greater  expression  and  all  the  decency 
that  the  subject  would  allow;  by  making  him  more  agreeable  and 
adding  'las  prendas  de  locuci6n  y armonfa'  he  preserved  for  the 
theatre  a 'comedia  que  siempre  repugnar£  la  crftica'".  Ticknor46 
describes  it  as  "an  alteration  of  Tirso  de  Molina's  Don  Juan, 
skillfully  made;  — a remarkable  drama,  in  which  the  tread  of  the 
marble  statue  is  heard  with  more  solemn  effect  than  it  is  in  any 
other  of  the  many  plays  on  the  same  subject". 

The  favorable  criticism  is,  however,  very  greatly  out- 
weighed by  that  which  varies  from  mildly  unfavorable  to  uncompro- 
misingly hostile.  The  Spanish  literary  historian  Julio  Cejador  y 
Frauca,  in  his  Historia  de  la  lengua  y literatura  castellana4? 
says,  "Fu£  harto  infeliz  su  refundici6n  de  El  Burlador  de  Sevilla 
de  Tirso,  en  El  Convidado  de  piedra,  que  le  reemplazo  en  las  ta- 
blas".  F'arinelli,  the  Italian  scholar,  declares48  that  it  gives 
unmistakable  evidence  of  the  decline  of  the  Spanish  drama  begun 
after  Calderon,  and  has  nothing  in  it  to  save  it  from  being  com- 
monplace and  trivial.  Picatoste  (p.  134)  "judges  the  work  very 
unfavorably,  believing  that  the  Burlador  de  Sevilla  lost  all  of 


its  merit  in  the  hands  of  Calder6n's  imitator  in  the  eighteenth 
century".  Professor  Waxman  says  (p.  194)  that  it  is  "absolutely 


% 

. 


. 


. 


. 


r 


45 


devoid  of  any  dramatic  ability,  despite  the  praises  of  Moratfn, 
Ticknor,  and  other  critics”.  He  goes  on  to  say  that  where  it  is 
not  a servile  imitation  of  Tirso,  it  brings  in  a series  of  compli- 
cated episodes  so  awkwardly  handled  as  to  make  it  impossible  at 
times  to  follow  the  course  of  events. 

Whatever  its  literary  merit,  it  must  be  given  credit 
for  preserving  the  tradition  till  such  time  as  a better  play 
should  take  up  the  burden;  and  Waxman  agrees  to  this.  Cejador 
tells  us  above  that  it  superseded  the  Bur lador  on  the  stage, 
though  he  does  not  say  whether  or  not  it  did  so  immediately.  Alon- 
so Cortes  cites  Mila  y Fontanals  as  authority  for  the  statement 

that  it  was  played  every  year  in  November  up  to  the  time  when  Zo- 

4-9 

rrilla's  Hon  Juan  Tenor io  superseded  it.  Between  the  date  of 
the  No  hay  plazo  and  the  Tenorio  there  is  a period  of  not  much 
less  than  a century  and  a quarter,  perhaps  even  a little  more,  dur- 
ing which  Zamora's  play  may  have  represented  the  Don  Juan  tradi- 
tion on  the  stage. 

Why  did  the  No  hay  plazo  attain  greater  popular  favor 
than  the  Bur lador?  Let  us  examine  the  play  with  some  attention  to 
detail  and  see  if  the  reason  can  be  determined  thus.  When  the 
play  opens,  Don  Juan  is  in  Spain  boasting  to  his  servant,  the  "gra- 
cioso”,  who  is  called  Camacho,  that  by  means  of  a disguise  he  has 
deceived  a woman  in  Naples  so  that  his  uncle,  the  Spanish  ambassa- 
dor to  Naples,  would  the  sooner  send  him  back  to  Spain,  where  he 
wanted  to  be.  He  has  also  seduced  another  Italian  woman.  Dona  Be- 
atriz  Fresneda,  with  a promise  of  marriage,  which  he  broke.  He  is 
now  courting  Dona  Ana  de  Ulloa,  whom  his  father  urges  him  to  marry. 
He  has  refused  to  do  so,  telling  Camacho  that  he  is  courting  her 


. 


46 


for  other  reasons.  Later,  when  at  her  home,  he  quarrels  with  her 
father,  who  is  killed  in  the  encounter.  In  the  second  act,  when 
fleeing  from  Don  Luis,  the  brother  of  Dona  Beatriz,  he  takes  ref- 
uge in  the  chapel  where  Don  Gonzalo,  Doha  Ana’s  father,  is  buried. 
He  addresses  the  statue,  and  to  prove  his  friendship,  he  asks  it 
to  have  supper  with  him.  The  invitation  is  accepted  and  complied 
with,  whereupon  a return  invitation  is  given,  the  meal  to  be 
served  at  a certain  convent.  The  first  supper  is  interrupted  by 
people  coming  into  the  garden  where  Don  Juan  has  had  it  served. 
Suddenly  the  brother  of  Doha  Beatriz  shoots  at  him,  the  lights  are 
extinguished,  and  the  act  ends  amidst  great  confusion.  It  should 
be  explained  here  that  Doha  Beatriz,  although  jilted  by  Don  Juan, 
has  not  lost  her  interest  in  him,  nor  her  hope  of  securing  his  com- 
pliance with  his  promise  to  marry  her,  and  manages  to  see  him  sev- 
eral times  in  the  first  act.  Her  brother  roughly  takes  her  to  task 
for  her  treason  to  the  family,  and  is  interrupted  by  Don  Juan,  who 
comes  to  the  lady’s  rescue.  This  explains  Don  Luis'  animosity  to- 
ward Don  Juan,  leading  up  to  the  attempt  to  kill  him  in  the  sec- 
ond act.  This  animosity  may  also  have  some  bearing  upon  his  fight 
with  Don  Juan  in  the  beginning  of  the  third  act,  though  ostensibly 
he  undertakes  the  duel  to  avenge  Dona  Ana,  and  at  her  request. 

Don  Juan  is  victorious.  Later  he  repairs  to  the  convent  where  he 
is  to  dine  with  the  Comendador.  He  finds  the  door  locked,  and 
just  when  he  is  about  to  accuse  his  host  of  not  keeping  the  rendez- 
vous, the  door  opens  — without  visible  agent.  A tomb  appears;  in 
it  may  be  seen  Don  Gonzalo.  He  comes  out,  and  at  his  order  a 
table  rises  through  the  floor.  The  service  is  entirely  in  black, 
and  the  servants  are  also  dressed  in  black.  Snakes  form  part  of 


, 

• 

• 

Jfc 


47 


the  food,  which  is  mostly  symbolical;  the  wine  cups  issue  fire, 
and  other  fantastic  things  happen.  When  Don  Juan  complains  that 
there  is  no  music,  singing  is  immediately  heard.  At  his  request, 
the  table  sinks  through  the  floor,  and  he  prepares  to  take  leave 
of  his  host.  Upon  touching  the  latter’s  stony  hand,  he  experiences 
a sensation  of  burning,  and  cries  out,  but  cannot  escape  the  fatal 
embrace  that  immediately  follows.  He  prays  Heaven  for  forgiveness 
and  falls  dead,  whereupon  Don  Gonzalo  reenters  his  tomb.  As  the 
play  ends,  the  King  is  just  in  the  act  of  refusing  to  pardon  Don 
Juan  for  his  misdemeanors,  when  Camacho  comes  up  and  tells  of  his 
master’s  peculiar  fate. 

It  will  be  readily  seen  that  Zamora  has  omitted  some  of 
the  episodes  that  were  in  Tirso's  play.  In  the  first  place,  this 
Don  Juan  courts  but  one  woman  throughout  the  play;  that  removes 
three  of  Tirso’s  episodes  in  the  first  two  acts.  Next,  and  in 
consequence  of  this,  Don  Juan  encounters  the  statue  in  the  second 
act,  much  earlier  than  in  Tirso’s  play.  There  is  no  suspicion  and 
imprisonment  of  any  one  else  when  the  Comendador  is  killed,  as  in 
the  case  of  the  Marques  de  la  Mota  in  Tirso’s  plot.  My  brief  out- 
line of  the  main  thread  of  the  plot  leaves  many  minor  happenings 
and  several  characters  unmentioned.  Some  of  the  minor  episodes 
that  Zamora  has  added  to  Tirso’s  rather  simple  plot  "to  give  ro- 
mantic color  to  the  drama "^0  are  serenades,  songs  by  a "graciosa", 
music  by  students,  quarrels  between  these  and  major  characters, 
night  walks  taken  by  Doha  Ana  with  her  faithful  maid,  pistol  shots, 
the  extinguishing  of  the  lights,  and  Dona  Ana's  pact  with  the  cut- 
throat Don  Luis  to  free  her  from  the  designs  of  the  seducer. 

There  is  just  a suggestion  here  in  Don  Luis  of  the  recognized  ri- 


48 


val,  Mejia  or  Sandoval,  in  Zorrilla's  or  Dumas'  versions.  The  en- 
counters between  Don  Juan  and  Fi liber to,  Doha  Beatriz's  lover,  are 
wordy  and  numerous,  and  rather  inane  skirmishes  entirely  different 
from  anything  in  the  Burlador . They  finally  lead  up  to  prepara- 
tions for  a formal,  pompous  duel,  which  is  prevented  on  the  field 
by  the  King  himself.  Another  departure  from  the  model  is  the  mat- 
ter of  having  a three  months'  jail  sentence  a part  of  Don  Juan's 
past.  At  the  time  of  the  play,  he  is  out  on  a sort  of  parole,  un- 
der the  guardianship  of  his  father. 

The  speaking  characters  that  are  named  number  fifteen. 
Naturally  there  is  not  the  same  parallelism  of  characters  with 
those  in  the  Burlador  that  we  observed  in  the  case  of  the  Tan  lar- 
go . The  protagonist  and  his  father  bear  the  same  names  Tirso  gave 
them,  as  also  do  the  Comandador  and  his  daughter.  The  King  of 
Castile  remains  Alfonso  XI,  and  there  is  a Fabio,  although  not  in 
the  service  of  the  same  master.  Neither  is  he  the  same  sort  of 
character  as  Octavio's  servant  of  the  same  name  in  the  Burlador . 

The  identity  of  names  stops  here,  but  a certain  similarity  of  char- 
acters exists  in  Doha  Beatriz  and  Filiberto  Gonzaga,  who  are  in 
some  respects  the  same  as  Isabela  and  Octavio  of  Tirso 's  piece. 

The  similarity  is  not  strong,  it  must  be  admitted.  The  Catalinon 
of  the  Burlador  becomes  Camacho  in  the  service  of  this  new  Don 
Juan,  but  he  is  more  like  his  prototype  than  any  other  character 
in  the  entire  play.  Don  Luis  is  an  addition  on  the  part  of  Zamo- 
ra, as  also  are  a Conde  de  Urena,  a Marques  de  Cadiz,  both  color- 
less and  unimportant  characters,  and  Pispireta,  the  "graciosa"  men- 
tioned once  before.  A very  considerable  group  of  fisher  folk  and 
peasants  are  left  entirely  out  of  Zamora's  list  of  characters  in 


. 


49 


consequence  of  his  decreasing  the  number  of  Don  Juan’s  amorous  ad- 
ventures. This  was  presumably  done  to  give  the  revision  of  the 
Burlador  more  "decencia",  a mark  which  Zamora  has  fallen  short  of j 
it  seems  to  me.  Don  Juan's  campaign  against  Doha  Ana  fails  to  as- 
sume any  more  "decencia"  in  view  of  his  change  from  the  suave, 
rather  gentlemanly  ladies'  man  to  the  brutish  character  who  rough- 
ly attacks  her  after  his  victory  over  her  champion.  While  this  is 
only  one  instead  of  the  four  seductions  that  take  place  in  the  Bur- 
lador , other  things  of  as  little  ’’decencia"  have  taken  the  place 
of  those  omitted,  as,  for  instance,  the  character  of  Pispireta, 
everybody's  sweetheart,  and  the  injudicious  following  of  Don  Juan 
by  Doha  Beatriz,  who  even  appears  in  male  attire  at  the  site  of 
the  proposed  duel  between  Don  Juan  and  Filiberto. 

I must  confess  that  I cannot  answer  satisfactorily  my 
question  of  some  pages  back  regarding  the  reasons  for  this  play 
superseding  the  Burlador . I would  suggest,  however,  that  it  is 
probably  more  lively  on  the  stage  than  is  the  Burlador . The  lat- 
ter depends  for  its  excellence  upon  character  drawing,  and  per- 
haps this  fact,  coupled  with  the  fact  that  there  is  a great  deal 
of  sameness  in  the  first  part  dealing  with  the  protagonist's  se- 
ductions, might  make  it  somewhat  tiresome  to  the  spectator  intent 
upon  light  entertainment  only.  It  is  true,  as  Farinelli  says,5^ 
that  the  Burlador  is  a series  of  almost  disconnected  scenes,  but 
Zamora's  piece  presents  little,  if  any,  improvement  in  this  re- 
spect, and  as  for  delicate  strokes  of  character  drawing,  they  are 
entirely  lacking.  The  play  does,  however,  present  action,  be  it 
good  or  bad;  it  presents  certain  thrills  to  the  spectator;  there 
is  more  music  in  it;  all  of  which  things  would  probably  make  it 


■ 


' 


more  popular  with  the  "entertainment-seeking  crowd". 


. 


VII.  DON  JUAN  TENOR 10 


Shortly  before  the  middle  of  the  next  century,  in  1844 
to  be  exact,  the  legend  made  its  appearance  in  Spain  again  in  a 
new  theatrical  dress,  after  having  been  given  more  attention  in 
other  countries,  notably  France,  than  in  the  country  of  its  origin. 
The  Romantic  poet  Jose  Zorrilla  tried  his  hand  at  a "refundicidn" 
of  Tirso's  widely  known  play.  The  play  is  of  no  great  literary 
merit,  judged  solely  as  a piece  of  dramatic  literature,  but  its 
subject,  combined  with  the  undeniable  lyrical  beauty  that  Zorrilla 
was  able  to  put  into  it,  won  for  it  a really  remarkable  populari- 
ty. its  religious  note  made  a deep  impression  upon  the  Spanish 
mind,  and  for  over  three  quarters  of  a century  it  has  maintained 
its  popularity  wherever  Spanish  is  spoken.  It  is  as  much  a part 
of  Spanish  life  now  as  is  the  religious  festival.  All  Saints'  Day, 
at  the  celebration  of  which  it  is  played  annually  throughout  the 
Spanish- speaking  world. 

In  explanation  of  his  attempt  to  work  over  this  piece, 
Zorrilla  writes  as  follows  in  his  Recueraos  del  tiempo  viejo  (Vol. 
I,  p.  162  ss): 

"The  theatrical  season  of  forty-three  and  -four  was  passing 
rapidly:  Carlos  Latorre  had  oeen  working  in  Barcelona,  and 
Lombia  had  alone  kept  up  the  'Teatro  de  la  Cruz'  with  his  com- 
pany, for  which  I had  written  three  dramatic  works  that  year: 
...  In  February  of  forty-four  Carlos  Latorre  returned  to  Ma- 
drid, and  was  in  need  of  a new  work;  by  right  it  was  my  busi- 


51 


' 


. • 


52 


ness  to  prepare  it  with  despatch,  but  I had  not  thought  of 
anything,  and  time  was  pressing:  the  theatre  was  to  be  closed 
in  April.  I do  not  remember  who  suggested  to  me  the  idea  of 
a reworking  of  the  Burlador  de  Sevilla,  or  whether  I myself, 
encouraged  by  the  slight  amount  of  work  which  that  of  Las  Tra- 
vesuras  de  Pantoja  had  cost  me,  had  hit  upon  the  idea  while 
looking  over  the  collection  of  the  ’comedias’  of  Moreto;  the 
fact  is  that  without  any  more  material  or  any  more  study  than 
El  Burlador  de  Sevilla,  of  that  ingenious  monk,  and  its  bad 
recasting  by  Solis,  which  was  the  one  that  until  that  time 
had  been  played  under  the  title  of  No  hay  plazo  que  no  se  cum- 
pla  ni  deuda  que  no  se  pague  or  El  Convidado  de  piedra,  I con- 
strained myself  to  write  in  twenty  days  a Don  Juan  of  my  own 
handiwork.  As  ignorant  as  I was  daring,  I undertook  it  with 
that  magnificent  argument,  without  knowing  either  Le  Festin 
de  Pierre,  of  Moliere,  or  the  beautiful  libretto  of  the  abb£ 

Da  Ponte,  or  anything,  in  short,  of  what  had  been  written  in 
Germany,  France,  and  Italy  about  the  great  idea  of  sacrile- 
gious libertinism  personified  in  one  man:  Don  Juan.  Without 
realizing,  then,  the  intrepidity  of  the  undertaking  into 
which  I was  about  to  launch  myself;  without  any  knowledge  of 
the  world  or  of  the  human  heart;  without  social  or  literary 
studies  in  preparation  for  treating  a subject  as  widespread 
as  it  is  wonderful;  relying  solely  upon  my  poetical  intuition 
and  my  faculty  for  making  verses,  I began  my  Don  Juan  one 
sleepless  night  with  the  scene  of  the  'cvillejos1  in  the  sec- 
ond act  between  Don  Juan  and  the  servant  of  Dciia  Ana  de  Pan- 
toja. Here  already  I was  entering  the  path  of  mannerisms  and 


‘ 


' 


53 


bad  taste  from  which  a great  part  of  my  work  suffers;  because 
the  ’ovillejo' , or  'septima  real' , is  the  most  forced  and  ar- 
tificial metrical  arrangement  that  I know  of:  ..." 

Of  the  Recuerdos , Fi t zmaurice-Aelly  says  in  his  Hi storia 
de  la  literatura  espanola  (Madrid,  1913,  p.  407),  that  it  is  a 
"libro  mas  interesante  que  exacto" . ¥ That  this  statement  is  not 
without  foundation  may  be  seen  in  the  brief  extract  just  given. 
Zorrilla’ s compatriot,  Alonso  Cortes,  calls  attention^2  to  several 
"slips  of  his  pen".  Likewise,  Adolfo  de  Castro  says  he  must  have 
been  mistaken  in  certain  statements . 53 

Zorrilla  says  he  may  have  "hit  upon  the  idea  while  look- 
ing over  the  collection  of  the  ’coraedias'  of  Moreto".  Alonso  Cor- 
tes dismisses  this  as  a slip  of  the  pen,  adding  that  Tirso  was,  of 
course,  the  writer  whom  Zorrilla  had  in  mind.  I am  by  no  means 
certain  that  this  correction  need  be  made.  Among  Moreto’ s dramat- 
ic pieces  is  one  entitled  San  Franco  de  Sena,  or  in  the  undated 
Seville  edition,  El  Lego  de  Carmen,  San  Franco  de  Sena.  The  argu- 
ment has  to  do  with  a libertine  who,  after  a long  series  of  re- 
volting crimes  among  which  was  a rape  accomplished  by  his  pretend- 
ing to  be  the  lady’s  lover,  loses  his  sight  by  the  intervention  of 
Heaven  itself  upon  his  losing  a bet  in  which  eye-sight  was  the 

‘Exactly  the  same  statement  appears  in  his  Litterature 
espagnole  (Paris,  1913,  p.  415).  It  does  not  appear  in  the  Eng- 
lish edition  of  1898,  published  in  New  York  and  London,  but  does 
appear  in  Bonilla  y San  Martin’s  translation  (published  in  Madrid 
without  date,  but  which  probably  appeared  in  1901,  since  the  pref- 
atory remarks  of  the  translator  are  dated  October,  1900,  and  the 
prologue  by  Menendez  y Pelayo  is  dated  July  15,  1901)  in  these 
words:  "libro  interesante,  pero  muy  inexacto  en  los  pormenores" 

(p.  504).  The  first  French  edition,  a translation  by  Davray,  pub- 
lished in  Paris  in  1904,  characterizes  the  Recuerdos  as  "souvenirs 
interessants  mais  inexacts"  (p.  394). 


* 


' • 


■ 


. 


54 


stake  on  both  sides.  His  mode  of  life,  as  well  as  that  of  the  vic- 
tim of  his  rape,  changes  entirely,  and  he  becomes  a monk.  His  vic- 
tim, who  has  become  a prostitute,  witnesses  his  devotion,  is 
struck  by  it,  and  renounces  her  sins,  whereupon  she  is  taken  up  by 
angels  and  carried  directly  from  the  foot  of  the  cross  to  heaven.* 
Certain  resemblances  to  the  Bur lador  are  unmistakable, 
and  may  very  easily  have  suggested  the  subject  to  Zorrilla.  More- 
over, just  previously,  Zorrilla  himself  mentions  his  "refundicidn" 
of  Moreto's  Las  Travesuras  de  Pantoja,  a nr efundicidn"  which  he 
had  entitled  La  Mejor  razon,  la  espada.  There  need  scarcely  be 
any  question  as  to  whether  Moreto's  play,  the  San  Franco,  was 
available  to  Zorrilla.  The  first  edition  of  Moreto's  works  con- 
taining this  play  was  issued  in  1652.  Another  appeared  in  1654, 
both  of  these  being  published  at  Madrid.  There  were  at  least  five 
others:  one  at  Valencia  in  1676,  another  at  Madrid  in  the  same 
year;  Antwerp,  1680;  Valencia,  1765;  and  one  at  Seville  of  un- 
known date.  When  he  specifically  mentions  "El  Bur lador  de  Sevilla, 
of  that  ingenious  monk",  we  need  not  assume  that  "that  ingenious 
monk"  refers  to  Moreto,  although  Moreto  was  (despite  the  fact  that 
Cotarelo  denies  it)  a monk,  having  taken  holy  orders  and  become, 
in  1657,  "recteur  de  l'hospice  du  Refuge"  at  Toledo. The  phrase 
does  not  mean  "that  ingenious  monk",  but  "that  ingenious  monk"  who 
would  be  so  well  known  to  the  people  for  whom  Zorrilla  was  writing 


*Luis  Fernandez-Guerra  y Orbe,  in  his  catalogue  of  Mo- 
reto's works  in  Vol.  XXXIX  of  the  Biblioteca  de  Autores  Espanoles 
(p.  xli),  mentions  a continuation  of  this  play  in  these  words: 
"Although  at  the  end  a second  part  was  promised,  it  does  not  ap- 
pear that  the  poet  kept  his  wrord;  the  continuation  which  exists 
is  by  Rivadeneyra . " 


• 

. 

' . ... 

. < 


55 


his  Recuerdos  that  he  did  not  need  to  be  mentioned  by  name.  The 
semicolon  after  "Moreto",  rather  than  a period,  is  surely  meant  to 
show  the  close  connection  between  the  suggestion  and  its  execution; 
not  a connection  between  "Moreto"  and  "El  Burlador  de  Sevilla". 
Moreover,  granted  that  the  idea  came  from  a perusal  of  the  San 
Franco  de  Sena,  what  would  be  more  natural  than  to  turn  back  to 
the  Burlador , the  first  and  foremost  of  the  Don  Juan  literary  ex- 
pressions, for  the  material  on  which  to  base  the  new  play? 

With  more  point,  Alonso  Cortes  takes  exception  also  to 
the  imputation  of  the  "mala  refundici<5n"  of  the  Burlador , under 
the  title  of  No  hay  plazo  que  no  se  cumpla,  to  Solis.  It  has  been 
presumed  that  Dionisio  Solis  (the  pseudonym  of  Dionisio  Villanue- 
va y Ochoa,  born  in  1774)  is  the  one  to  whom  the  reference  is  made. 
This  Solis  was  intimately  connected  with  the  theatre  of  his  time, 
and  recast  many  older  plays  for  the  nineteenth  century  stage.  I 
have  been  unable  to  obtain  a complete  list  of  his  "r ef undiciones" 
and  cannot,  therefore,  be  sure  that  he  does  not  have  to  his  cred- 
it one  with  the  above  title.  I think,  however,  that  it  was  not 
Dionisio  Solis,  but  Antonio  (born  in  1610),  that  Zorrilla  had  in 
mind.  I have  found  nothing  to  indicate  that  Antonio  Solis  made  a 
"refundici6n"  of  the  Burlador , and  certainly  he  had  no  reputation 
as  an  adapter,  such  as  Dionisio  had,  but  he  did  write,  according 
to  Picatoste  (p.  152),  a "loa"  to  Tirso's  play.  This  "loa"  was 
written  expressly  for  the  actor  Sebastian  de  Prado,  who  took  a 
Spanish  company  to  Paris  in  1659  and  "represent6  con  extraordina- 
rio  exito  la  obra  original  de  Tirso  de  Molina,  precedida  de  la 
'loa'"  which  Solis  wrote.  The  latter's  name  was  probably  commonly 
known  in  connection  with  this  "loa",  and  Zorrilla1 s uncertain  mem- 


* 


\ 

i 


■ 


56 


ory  confused  him  with  the  writer  of  the  "mala  r efundici6n " . 

It  is  entirely  unnecessary  to  assume,  on  the  strength  of 
Zorrilla's  remark,  that  Dionisio  Solis  adapted  an  older  play  un- 
der the  title  Mo  hay  plazo  que  no  se  cumpla.  On  the  other  hand, 
it  is  almost  certain  that  he  did  not.  If  he  had  done  so,  his  play 
would  have  become  known  through  representation  on  the  stage.  Now, 
we  know  that  a play  of  this  title  was  popular  in  Spain  before  Zo- 
rrilla's time,  and,  moreover,  we  know  that  it  was  Zamora's,  and 
not  Solis'.  Alonso  Cortes  makes  the  following  statement  with  ref- 
erence to  this  matter  (p.  418,  note):  "A  curious  and  little  known 
fact  is  that  before  Zorrilla  Don  Juan  Tenorio  already  appeared  on 
the  stage  every  year  in  the  month  of  November,  in  the  "refundici6n" 
of  Zamora."  In  support  of  his  statement  he  quotes  from  the  Obras 
completas  (t.  IV)  of  Mila  y Fontanals,  who  writes  these  words:  "La 
comedia  de  Zamora  es  la  que  actualmente  se  representa.  . . . Dificil 
parece  explicar  por  que  la  comedia  que  representa  los  hechos  y la 
suerte  de  este  personaje  llena  cada  Noviembre  los  teatros...,  por 
que  el  pueblo  corre  a presenciarla  a pesar  de  sus  nuevas  preocupa- 
ciones,  que  a sus  antiguas  pr eocupaciones  han  sucedido."  Cotare- 
lo  adds  the  weight  of  his  testimony  in  these  words:  "Antes  del  Don 
Juan  Tenorio,  de  Zorrilla,  este  de  Zamora  era  el  que  se  represen- 
taba  en  nuestros  teatros"  (Cat,  raz.,  p.  ix).  Evidently,  then, 
Zorrilla  meant  "Zamora"  when  he  wrote  "Solis",  and  the  title 
should  read  "pague,  y Convidado"  instead  of  "pague  o Convidado", 
as  Zorrilla  wrote,  thereby  giving  another  instance  of  his  careless- 
ness. 

Some  lines  farther  on,  Zorrilla  refers  to  "el  precicso 
libreto  del  abate  Da  Ponte".  Once  more  we  have  evidence  of  his 


■ 


! 


. . . 

. 


- 


. 


57 


lack  of  care  in  verifying  his  information  before  he  wrote.  "R.G.", 
in  La  Grande  Encyclcp£die  (Vol.  XIII,  p.  922),  gives  a formidable 
list  of  the  activities  of  the  versatile  Da  Ponte  but  does  not  men- 
tion his  having  been  an  abbe.  The  article  says  that  "he  was  chief- 
ly an  adventurer,  ...  His  destiny  was  to  rove  about  the  world:  and 
he  roved,  — as  tutor,  teacher,  political  poet,  librettist  or  the- 
atrical poet  at  Vienna,  'entrepreneur'  of  itinerant  opera  in  Hol- 
land, mendicant,  or  almost  so,  theatre  manager  in  London,  broker 
in  street-singers,  bookseller,  music  dealer,  'negociant  vague'  in 
America,  dealer  in  brandy,  teacher  of  Italian,  distiller,  then 
bookdealer,  finally  bankrupt  and  instructor  in  a girls'  boarding 
school..."  This  list  is  obviously  not  exact,  since  it  fails  to 
mention  his  services  as  Professor  of  Italian  in  Columbia  College, 
beginning  in  1825,  but  it  is  indicative,  and  in  this  career  there 
is  very  little  indication  of  any  leanings  toward  the  priesthood. 
Again  we  must  recognize  Zorrilla's  lack  of  attention  to  details. 

I call  attention  to  these  inaccuracies  to  show  that  Zo- 
rrilla  is  not  to  be  taken  too  seriously  in  everything  he  says,  but 
after  all  they  are  minor  points.  Of  more  importance  is  the  con- 
sideration of  the  statement  I have  quoted  as  a whole.  He  says, 

"the  fact  is  that  without  any  more  material  or  any  more  study  than 
El  Burlador  de  Sevilla,  of  that  ingenious  monk,  and  its  bad  re- 
casting by  Solis,  ...  I constrained  myself  to  write  in  twenty  days 
a Don  Juan  of  my  own  handiwork".  He  denies  other  sources  more  spe- 
cifically a few  lines  farther  on  where  he  says,  "As  ignorant  as  I 
was  daring,  I undertook  it  with  that  magnificent  argument,  without 
knowing  either  Le  Festin  de  Pierre,  of  Moliere,  or  the  beautiful 
libretto  of  the  abbe  Da  Ponte,  or  anything,  in  short,  of  what  had 


■ 


* 

fl 


• ; 

s 


s 


■ 


58 


been  written  in  Germany,  France,  and  Italy  about  the  great  idea  of 
sacrilegious  libertinism  personified  in  one  man:  Don  Juan".  "That 
magnificent  argument"  is  doubtless  Tirso’s  Pur lador . 

To  those  who  know  both  his  Don  Juan  Tenor io  and  the 
French  versions  of  the  same  general  period,  this  statement  of  Zo- 
rrilla's is  absolutely  incredible.  I have  been  unable  to  find  a 
single  defence  of  it.  In  spite  of  Professor  Waxman * s statement 
that  Spanish  critics  "are  loud  in  their  praises  of  Zorrilla's  orig- 
inality, and  make  no  mention  whatever  of  his  indebtedness  to  pre- 
ceding authors"  (p.  199),  I find  that  even  his  friends  cannot  ac- 
cept his  statement  as  fact.  In  an  article  which  Alonso  Cortes 
characterizes  (p.  433)  as  "no  digno  de  la  fama  de  su  autor",  Adol- 
fo de  Castro  says  this:55  "He  tells  us  that  he  had  in  mind  only 
the  work  of  Tirso  de  Molina,  and  I believe  that  he  allowed  himself 
to  take  more  of  the  argument  of  the  drama  Don  Juan  de  Marana . 
which, with  the  title  of  La  Caida  de  un  angel,  his  friend  and  mine, 
the  great  poet,  a son  of  this  province,  D.  Antonio  Garcia  Gutie- 
rrez, translated  into  Spanish,  in  prose  and  verse." 

Alonso  Cortes  points  out  that  one  of  the  sources  that 
Zorrilla  himself  mentions1,  could  not  have  served  the  poet  as  a 
guide,  everything  about  the  two  pieces  being  different  except  some 
of  the  names  and  the  general  character  of  the  protagonist.  But, 
he  adds  (pp.  406-7):  "I  believe  that,  in  fact,  Zorrilla  was  en- 
couraged to  write  the  Don  Juan  in  view  of  the  work  of  Zamora,  but 
that  in  carrying  out  his  task  he  had  in  memory  at  least  Merimee's 

*Alonso  Cortes  considers  this  to  be  Zamora's  No  hay  pla- 
zo,  notwithstanding  Zorrilla's  assertion  that  he  used  a "refundi- 
ci<5n"  of  Solis. 


* 

I 

. 


•I 


»■  , 


. 


59 


Les  Ames  du  purgatoire,  Blaze  de  Bury's  Souper  chez  le  commandeur, 
and  the  Don  Juan  de  Marana,  of  Dumas.  He  did  not  awkwardly  take 
concrete  details  and  episodes  from  each  one,  but  he  genially  blend- 
ed, in  his  fancy,  elements  from  all  of  them,  improving  them  all.” 

Picatoste  expresses  his  opinion  in  these  words  (p.  182): 
"Suffice  it  to  say  that  Zorrilla  has  joined  in  it  all  that  had 
been  previously  written  about  such  a character.  ...  Zorrilla  has 
accumulated  in  the  action  of  his  drama,  with  incredible  exaggera- 
tion, everything  that  has  been  conceived  by  the  foreign  poets  who 
have  written  upon  this  type.” 

Pi  y Margall  writes  this  (p.  liv):  "Our  distinguished 
and  brilliant  poet  Don  Jose  Zorrilla  has  also  written  his  Don  Juan 
Tenorio , one  of  his  most  applauded  dramas.  If  they  were  not  ac- 
quainted with  it,  my  readers  would  have  difficulty  in  believing 
that  he  had  traced  it  over  that  of  Dumas,  since  he  did  not  lack 
originality  and  had  in  Spain  better  models  and  guides.  It  is  true 
that  he  has  corrected  some  faults  of  the  one  he  took  as  a model; 
on  the  other  hand,  he  has  not  only  reproduced  others,  but  has  ag- 
gravated them.  And  he  has  not  avoided  committing  some  on  his  own 
account . n 

Cotarelo  y Mori,  in  his  Catalogo  razonado  del  teatro  de 
Tirso  de  Molina  (p.  x),  says  that  "Zorrilla  took  the  subject  mat- 
ter of  his  work,  for  the  most  part,  from  Zamora's  Convidado  and 
from  Dumas'  Marana" . He  goes  further  and  says,  "As  for  Tirso' s 
Burlador , he  was  not  even  acquainted  with  it,  whatever  he  may  as- 
sert to  the  contrary  in  his  Recuerdos  del  tiempo  vie.io  (tomo  I, 
pag.  163),  where  he  writes  these  most  inexact  words".  At  this 
point  Cotarelo  quotes  a portion  of  the  passage  which  I have  given 


* . 

■ 


. 


* 1 


. 

.. 


above,  lines  3 to  14  on  page  52.  In  commenting  upon  this  state- 
ment which  Zorrilla  makes,  Cotarelo  says,  "There  are  as  many  er- 
rors as  there  are  statements". 

Another  Spanish  critic,  Juan  Martinez  Villergas5^  writes 
as  follows  of  the  Don  Juan  Tenor lo:  "Not  only  is  it  a wretched 
travesty,  but  its  author  has  had  the  weakness  to  appropriate  to 
himself  all  the  most  noteworthy  material  that  he  has  found  in  the 
authors  that  have  preceded  him,  and  in  order  that  it  may  not  be 
said  that  I am  speaking  empty  words,  I refer  my  readers  to  the 
fourth  scene  of  the  second  act  of  the  Don  Juan  de  Marana,  of  A.  Du- 
mas, ...  which  is  translated  literally  in  the  Don  Juan  Tenorio,  of 
Zorrilla."  Ramirez  Angel,  who  quotes  the  above  criticism  of  Mar- 
tinez Villergas,  makes  no  direct  remarks,  confining  himself  to 
this  prefatory  characterization  of  Martinez  Villergas:  "ya  en 
otras  ocasiones  critico  implacable  y parcial  de  Zorrilla". 

In  the  1904  edition  of  Fitzmaurice-Kelly ' s Li tterature 
espagnole , translated  by  Henry-D.  Davry,  we  read  (p.  396),  "Zorri- 
lla will  live  through  plays  such  as  ...  Don  Juan  Tenorio,  suggest- 
ed by  Les  Ames  du  purgatoire  of  Prosper  Merimee".  In  an  article 
on  "Don  Juan"  in  the  eleventh  edition  of  the  Encyclopaedia  Britan- 
nica  (1910),  the  same  writer  says,  "It  is  in  fact  little  more  than 
an  adaptation  of  the  elder  Dumas'  Don  Juan  de  Marana.  which,  in 
turn,  derives  chiefly  from  Merimee 's  novel,  Les  Ames  du  purga- 
toire".  In  the  second  edition  of  the  Literature  espagnole  (1913), 
the  statement  has  been  augmented  and  reads  thus  (p.  416):  "Zorri- 
lla will  live  through  some  of  his  plays:  Don  Juan  Tenorio  (1844), 

— the  sources  of  which  are  Dumas  pere's  Don  Juan  de  Marana,  ou  la 


Chute  d'un  ange  (1825)  (sic;  the  real  date  was  1834)." 


The  same 


m 


■ 


■ 


. 


* 


■ 


61 


writer's  statement  in  his  Historia  de  la  llteratura  espanola  (Ma- 
drid, 1913,  p.  408)  is  identical  in  import,  even  to  the  inaccuracy 
in  the  date  of  Les  Ames  du  purgatoire.  In  the  Bonilla  transla- 
tion into  Spanish  (Madrid,  no  date,  but  which,  as  stated  above, 
probably  appeared  in  1901),  no  reference  is  made  to  the  sources, 
nor  indeed  is  there  in  the  English  original  of  1898. 

Professor  Waxman's  opinion  is  expressed  in  the  following 
words  (pp.  198-9):  "Until  I had  read  Dumas'  Juan  de  Mar ana,  I had 
given  credit  to  Zorrilla  for  a great  amount  of  originality  in  pla- 
cing Don  Juan  in  an  entirely  new  environment.  Blanco  Garcia,  in 
his  Literatura  espanola  en  el  siglo  XIX,  like  many  other  Spanish 
critics,  gives  the  impression  that  Don  Juan  Tenor io  is  Zorrilla' s 
own  conception  of  the  legend;  but  so  far  as  I can  see,  Zorrilla' s 
play  is  nothing  but  a combination  of  Tirso's  Bur lador  and  Dumas' 
Juan  de  Mar ana.  His  plot  is  partly  that  of  Tirso,  and  partly  that 
of  Dumas;  but  his  Don  Juan  is  not  the  weak  creature  of  Dumas  — he 
is  the  bold,  defiant  libertine  of  Tirso.  Zorrilla  was  a Spaniard, 
and  knew  how  to  characterize  this  purely  Spanish  conception  of  Don 
Juan.  I do  not  mean  to  imply  that  his  play  is  a servile  imita- 
tion, — he  has  woven  together  the  elements  of  preceding  plays  in 
such  a way  as  to  make  his  work  seem  original,  — but  by  the  care- 
ful reader  it  may  be  easily  seen  that  his  situations  have  been 
borrowed.  I wish  to  lay  great  stress  upon  this  point,  in  refuta- 
tion of  the  boast  of  Spanish  critics,  who  are  loud  in  their  prais- 
es of  Zorrilla' s originality,  and  make  no  mention  whatever  of  his 
indebtedness  to  preceding  authors."  We  have  seen  enough,  I think, 


J 


to  feel  that  Waxman's  judgment  of  Spanish  critics  is  unjust,  but 
let  us  look  at  the  statement  of  Blanco  Garcia,  the  only  critic 


' 

. 


< 


./ 


' 


ft 

■ 


62 


whom  Waxman  names  in  his  general  condemnation  of  all  of  them.  On 
page  211  of  the  "Primera  Parte"  of  Blanco  Garcia's  work  we  read 
this  statement:  "It  must  be  agreed  that  the  creation  of  the  type 
of  Don  Juan  is  very  Spanish  on  the  whole,  even  though  there  may  be 
in  it  elements  which  are  found  in  the  tradition  and  literature  of 
different  countries."  This,  I think,  refers  to  the  character  as 
separated  from  any  one  play,  and  is  meant  to  be  applied  perhaps  to 
the  Don  Juan  in  the  Bur lador  rather  than  to  the  character  in  any 
later  work  involving  him.  A few  lines  farther  on,  Blanco  Garcia 
says  specifically  of  Zorrilla's  play,  "Zorrilla  tried  to  give 
greater  interest  and  variety  to  the  primitive  legend  of  Tenorio, 
combining  it  with  others;  he  took  from  the  Don  Juan  de  Marana.  of 
Alexander  Dumas,  the  idea  of  saving  the  protagonist  and  of  making 
his  personality  prominent  by  setting  him  off  against  a rival".  In 
view  of  these  quotations,  it  becomes  evident  that  Waxman,  when  he 
says,  "I  do  not  mean  to  imply  that  his  play  is  a servile  imitation, 
— he  has  woven  together  the  elements  of  preceding  plays  in  such  a 
way  as  to  make  his  work  seem  original",  and  "Zorrilla  was  a Span- 
iard and  knew  how  to  characterize  this  purely  Spanish  conception 
of  Don  Juan",  has  said  almost  the  same  thing  he  condemns  in  a Span- 
ish critic.  What  is  literary  originality,  anyway,  but  new  combi- 
nations of  older  elements?  Certainly  at  this  stage  of  literary 
study  one  ought  to  realize  the  extreme  scarcity  of  entirely  orig- 
inal situations  in  any  sort  of  writing.  Blanco  Garcia  does  some- 
what indignantly  (and  who  would  find  fault  with  him?)  deny  Fari- 
nelli's  asseveration  that  Zorrilla  lacked  dramatic  talent  absolute- 
ly, and  that  almost  any  one  could  have  produced  a better  Don  Juan 
than  Zorrilla's  — "so  famous  and  so  weak".  This  play  probably  is 


' 


, 


. 

■ 

. 


[== 


63 

not  a great  drama  from  a literary  point  of  view,  but  the  statement 
that  such  a play  (one  which  has  been  increasingly  popular  for  so 
long,  and  not  locally  either,  but  all  over  the  Spanish- speaking 
world)  gives  evidence  of  absolutely  no  dramatic  talent  on  the  part 
of  the  author,  is  open  to  attack  on  general  principles. 

My  quarrel  with  Zorrilla  is  not  that  he  lacks  originali- 
ty, nor  that  he  has  borrowed  or  made  use  of  situations  that  can  be 
identified  in  the  works  of  his  predecessors,  but  that  he  denied 
acquaintance  with  all  of  the  material  there  was  in  French,  German, 
and  Italian.  With  few  exceptions,  the  critics  who  say  he  followed 
Dumas  in  some  points  make  no  mention  of  his  denial  of  such  a 
source.  Did  they  know  he  had  made  the  statement?  The  article  of 
Pi  y Margall  was  published  as  early  as  1878  and  hence  appeared  be- 
fore the  Recuerdos , which  bear  the  date  of  1880.  All  the  other 
critics  quoted  could  have  known  them.  Did  they?  If  they  did,  why 
did  they  ignore  his  statement?  As  far  as  I can  find,  the  belief 
is  unanimous  that,  for  some  reason  or  other,  he  erred;  but  why  is 
not  his  side  of  the  case  stated  when  the  refutation  is  made?  I 
think  that  the  Recuerdos  have,  perhaps,  not  been  taken  very  seri- 
ously, but  rather  as  the  somewhat  incoherent  mutterings  of  an  old 
man  no  longer  in  complete  control  of  his  faculties.  It  will  be 
remembered  that  the  Recuerdos  were  the  product  of  his  later  years, 
after  he  had  passed  three  score  years  (he  was  born  February  21, 
1817)  and  had  undergone  many  disappointments.  I think  a reading 
of  the  Recuerdos  will  inevitably  leave  the  impression  that  the  mo- 
tives behind  many  of  his  later  actions  (and  some  of  his  earlier 
ones)  were,  to  say  the  least,  childish.  With  a sort  of  tacit  un- 
derstanding of  this  character  of  the  Recuerdos,  his  denial  of  ac- 


. 

' 


. 

. 


64 


quaintance  with  Dumas  and  others  has  been  ignored  as  the  error  of  a 
man  whose  memory  was  no  longer  as  clear  as  it  had  once  been. 

Whether  or  not  Zorrilla  knew  French,  I cannot  say,  but 
the  probability  is  that,  under  the  political  conditions  of  the 
time,  most  educated  Spaniards  did,  Zorrilla  among  them.  If  he  did, 
he  could  have  read  Merirnee's  novel  (1834)  and  Dumas'  play  (1836) 
in  the  original,  for  at  least  the  latter  was  well  known  at  that 
time,  according  to  Enrique  Pineyro?7  who  refers  to  Alexander  Dumas 
as  the  "guia  y maestro  de  los  dramdticos  espanoles  de  la  epoca". 

Les  Ames  du  purgatoire  was  first  published  in  a periodical58  and 
was  thus  in  a form  suitable  for  wide  circulation.  Moreover,  it  is 
not  unlikely  that  Merirnee's  earlier  activities  in  Spain,  which  he 
visited  in  1829  (staying  till  near  the  end  of  1830)  and  again  just 
ten  years  later,  may  have  aroused  a certain  amount  of  interest  in 
whatever  he  might  write,  and  especially  those  works  concerned  with 
things  Spanish.  Professor  Pedro  Henrfquez  Urena  is  authority  for 
the  statement  that  most  French  literature  was  read  in  Spain  at 
that  time,  and  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  Merimee  was 
no  exception.5®  This  being  the  case,  Zorrilla,  moving  among 
people  with  literary  tastes,  would  be  able  to  know  the  French  works 
even  without  being  able  to  read  them  for  himself.  He  went  to 
Paris  about  the  middle  of  1845,  scarcely  more  than  a year  after  he 
wrote  the  Tenorio , and  the  chances  are  that  his  interest  in  the 
French  Romantic  writers  would  have  led  him  to  a knowledge  of 
French  much  earlier  than  1844,  even  if  he  had  not  studied  French 
in  his  school  days  at  the  Seminary  of  the  Nobles,  in  Madrid,  a 
thing  which  is  quite  possible.  I think  it  it  safe  to  assume  that 
Zorrilla  must  have  had  a knowledge  of  French.  There  is  still  an- 


i ■ 


. ' 


■ 

• . ■ 

a ‘If  ■£•.*,  ' 07 


65 


other  channel,  however,  through  which  he  may  have  known  the  French 
Don  Juans.  We  know  there  were  many  translations  from  the  French 
at  that  period.  As  to  whether  any  of  M^rimee's  works  were  put  in- 
to Spanish,  I have  no  specific  information,  but  Dumas'  play  did  ex- 
ist in  Spanish.  Cotarelo  y Mori  says60  that  after  Dumas  published 
his  Don  Juan  de  Marana,  it  was  translated  into  Spanish  at  least 
twice,  and  also  represented  on  the  Spanish  stage.  The  first  of 
these  translations,  one  made  by  "J.  A.  LI.",  was  printed  in  Tarra- 
gona in  1838.  This  translator  states  that  it  was  necessary  to 
make  some  variations  from  the  original,  without  which,  perhaps,  the 
play  would  have  clashed  with  Spanish  ideas  and  customs.  The  sec- 
ond translation  was  made  by  Zorrilla's  intimate  friend,  Garcia  Gu- 
tierrez. It  was  represented  on  the  stage  and  also  printed  in  1839, 
at  Madrid,  five  years  before  Zorrilla  wrote  his  play.  Cotarelo 
says  our  dramatist  could  have  seen  it  "varias  veces".  In  view  of 
Dumas'  popularity  among  the  Spanish  Romanticists  of  the  time,  and 
in  view  of  these  translations  and  representations  of  this  partic- 
ular play,  it  is  inconceivable  that  Zorrilla  could  have  been  un- 
acquainted with  the  Don  Juan  de  Marana. 

Before  examining  the  points  of  similarity  between  the 
two  plays,  it  will  be  well  to  get  an  idea  of  Zorrilla's  play  as  a 
whole.  It  is  divided  into  two  distinct  parts,  the  first  giving, 
in  four  acts,  events  of  1545,  and  the  second,  in  three  acts,  cer- 
tain happenings  "years  afterwards".  This  division  into  two  sepa- 
rate parts,  with  a long  lapse  of  time  intervening,  is,  I believe, 
original  with  Zorrilla.  I know  of  no  other  version  like  his  in 
this  respect.  His  argument  is  as  follows:  Don  Juan  and  a rival, 
Don  Luis,  who  have  been  absent  for  a year,  are  expected  at  a cer- 


. 


. 

” ■ 


66 


tain  inn,  where  friends  of  each  are  discussing  their  merits  while 
awaiting  their  coming.  When  the  principals  arrive,  they  seat  them- 
selves at  a table  together  and  recall  the  terms  of  a wager  which 
has  caused  their  absence  and  present  meeting  by  prearrangement. 

Each  has  bet  he  would  do  more  and  worse  evil  things  than  the  oth- 
er in  the  space  of  a year.  Don  Juan  reports  that  he  went  to  Rome; 
had  to  leave  by  stealth  to  avoid  being  hanged;  joined  the  Spanish 
army;  had  five  or  six  duels;  fled  to  Naples;  and  there  in  a half 
year  he  committed  every  conceivable  kind  of  crime.  Don  Luis  first 

went  to  Flanders;  robbed  a bishop's  palace;  fled  to  Germany;  then 

spent  a half  year  in  Paris  in  the  same  manner  as  Don  Juan  was 
spending  it  in  Naples.  He  is  now  engaged  to  marry  Dona  Ana  de  Pan- 
toja. Written  lists  of  their  crimes  show  that  Don  Luis  has  killed 
twenty-three  men  in  duels  and  betrayed  fifty-six  women;  Don  Juan 
has  killed  thirty-two  men  and  seduced  seventy-two  women,  ranging 
in  the  social  scale  from  a royal  princess  to  a fisherman's  daugh- 
ter. Don  Luis  tells  him  he  has  not  traversed  the  complete  scale, 
since  one  type  is  lacking;  — there  is  no  nun  in  the  list.  Don 
Juan  wagers  that  he  will  add  such  a one  in  six  days,  and  more  than 
that,  he  will  dishonor  the  fiancee  of  a friend  who  is  about  to  be 
married.  This  lady  is,  he  boldly  says.  Dona  Ana  de  Pantoja. 

Don  Luis,  put  on  his  guard  by  this  boast,  goes  and  asks 

for  a rendezvous  with  Doha  Ana  for  ten  o'clock  that  night.  He 
tells  her  of  his  fears,  and  finally  gains  her  promise  of  complete 
compliance  with  his  desires.  She  will  give  him  entrance  at  ten 
o'clock.  Don  Juan  hears  all  this,  which  takes  place  at  Doha  Ana's 
window.  He  approaches  Don  Luis  and  they  quarrel,  the  latter  being 
overpowered  and  safely  confined  by  servants  of  Don  Juan.  Mean- 


. 

' 

. ' • • 


. 


. 


67 


while,  however,  Don  Juan  has,  with  the  aid  of  his  servant  and  the 
girl's  "dueha",  arranged  to  see,  at  nine  o'clock,  his  sv/eetheart, 
Doha  In£s  de  Ulloa,  whom  her  father  has  put  into  a convent  to  pre- 
vent her  becoming  the  bride  of  Don  Juan.  His  appearance  in  her 
cell  frightens  her  and  she  faints,  in  which  condition  she  is  car- 
ried without  difficulty  to  Don  Juan's  castle  by  the  river,  just 
outside  of  Seville,  the  whole  affair,  of  course,  being  finished  be- 
fore ten  o'clock.  At  the  appointed  time,  Don  Juan,  pretending  to 
be  Don  Luis,  accomplishes  his  desires  upon  "the  fiancee  of  a 
friend  who  is  about  to  be  married".  When  he  returns  to  his  castle 
from  this  affair,  he  reassures  Doha  Ines  and  makes  violent  love  to 
her,  a love  which  has  the  appearance  of  sincerity.  He  thinks  he 
would  even  be  capable  of  virtue  for  her  sake.  They  are  disturbed 
by  the  arrival  of  Don  Luis,  come  to  pay  the  forfeit  of  his  life 
for  having  lost  the  wager.  He  is  unwilling  to  go  to  slaughter 
like  a cow,  however,  but  wants  to  fight  like  a gentleman,  for  Don 
Juan  triumphed  over  Dona  Ana  by  trickery.  Don  Gonzalo  de  Ulloa, 
Doha  Ines'  father,  arrives,  and  in  apparent  sincerity  Don  Juan  asks 
very  humbly  for  the  hand  of  Doha  In£s  in  marriage.  He  promises 
all  kinds  of  proof  of  his  virtuous  love  for  her,  but  Don  Gonzalo 
is  unshaken,  his  attitude  toward  Don  Juan  being  insulting.  Don 
Luis  taunts  the  latter  with  cowardice,  whereupon  Don  Juan  shoots 
Don  Gonzalo,  telling  him  the  responsibility  will  be  his  (Don  Gon- 
zalo' s)  before  God.  He  then  kills  Don  Luis  in  an  encounter  with 
swords,  and  at  the  approach  of  officers,  he  jumps  off  the  balcony 
into  the  river  and  rows  away.  Doha  Ines  later  dies  of  a broken 
heart,  but  maintains  her  defence  of  Don  Juan  to  the  last. 

Years  afterward  Don  Juan  comes  back  to  the  scene  of  his 


i 


68 


earlier  misdeeds  and  finds  a new  cemetery  where  he  seeks  his  old 
home.  He  is  told  that  his  father  had  it  laid  out  on  the  site  of 
the  home  as  a burial  place  to  be  used  exclusively  for  the  victims 
of  his  son.  At  the  tomb  of  Doha  In4s  he  shows  sorrow  and  respect, 
but  that  of  Don  Gonzalo  merely  evoke  an  insolent  invitation  to  sup- 
per. When  Don  Juan  is  eating  supper  with  some  friends  that  night, 
the  statue  appears  and  returns  the  invitation.  The  shade  of  Doha 
Ines  also  appears  and  bids  Don  Juan  do  as  her  father  says.  He 
promises,  and  when  he  goes  to  the  tomb  and  knocks,  it  is  converted 
into  a table  horribly  decorated,  while  the  other  tombs,  except 
that  of  Doha  In£s,  give  up  their  dead  to  fill  the  stage.  Don  Gon- 
zalo tells  Don  Juan  of  an  eternity  of  fire  and  ashes,  and  the  lat- 
ter complains  that  he  should  have  been  told  earlier,  for  now  re- 
pentance is  no  longer  possible.  He  is  assured  that  it  is,  and  is 
also  told  that  he  is  dead,  — that  he  has  been  killed  by  one  of 
his  supper  companions  in  a quarrel  that  followed  the  appearance  of 
the  dead  man  at  the  supper.  The  statue  takes  his  hand,  and  he 
kneels  and  confesses  his  faith  in  God.  Doha  Ines  comes  forth  and 
takes  his  other  hand,  telling  him  that  her  soul  has  redeemed  his. 
She  bids  the  spirits  return  to  their  tombs.  Everything  changes; 
dawn  lights  up  the  new  scene,  which  is  peopled  with  angels  amidst 
a profusion  of  flowers.  Doha  In£s  is  lying  on  a bed  of  flowers, 
which  occupies  the  place  from  which  the  tomb  has  disappeared.  As 
Don  Juan  expresses  his  thanks  to  God,  he  falls  at  her  feet.  Such 
is  the  most  popular  of  all  Don  Juan  dramas,  and  the  last  Spanish 
version  that  retains  any  resemblance  to  the  original  legend. 

Let  us  now  examine  some  of  the  details  of  the  play. 

Both  Merimee  and  Dumas  bring  in  lists  of  women  seduced,  together 


* 

69 


with  the  husbands  betrayed.  Zorrilla  does  not  use  the  double  list, 
it  will  be  observed.  M&rim6e's  list  was  made  out  by  the  hero  dur- 
ing a period  of  convalescence  when  he  had  time  to  be  thinking  of 
what  he  had  done;  Dumas'  hero  apparently  had  his  list  ready  against 
a time  when  he  might  have  occasion  to  use  it  as  evidence  of  his 
prowess;  and  Zorrilla' s hero  prepared  his  list  for  a definite  oc- 
casion. In  all  three  cases  the  person  seeing  it  declared  it 
lacked  one  type,  — the  same  in  each  case,  — and  all  three  Don 
Juans  vowed  to  supply  the  missing  type.  Merimee 's  idea  has  all 
the  appearances  of  originality,  while  Zorrilla' s decidedly  does 
not  seem  to  be  original,  though  it  is  barely  possible  that  it 
could  be.  Dumas'  situation  has  no  appearance  of  originality  at 
all.  Alonso  Cortes  says  that  Zorrilla  got  his  idea  from  Merimee, 
but  I rather  think  it  came  from  Dumas,  because  it  is  set  in  the 
same  sort  of  scene  — the  inn  scene  — in  both  plays.  Indeed, 
there  is  almost  as  much  similarity  in  the  entire  scene  as  in  the 
incident  of  the  lists.  In  both  cases,  friends  are  championing  the 
reputations  of  the  heroes;  in  both  cases,  previous  reservation  has 
been  made  by  the  other  before  Don  Juan  enters  and  boldly  takes  a 
seat,  against  the  advice  of  onlookers,  at  the  table  which  he  is 
told  has  been  reserved.  In  Dumas,  the  rivals  meet  in  the  inn  for 
the  first  time,  and  the  wager  follows;  in  Zorrilla,  they  are  old 
friends,  who  meet  by  appointment  to  decide  a wager  made  a year  pre- 
viously. In  Dumas,  Sandoval  loses  his  mistress  by  an  unlucky 
throw  of  the  dice;  in  Zorrilla,  Don  Luis  loses  his  through  Don 
Juan's  trickery.  In  both  cases  a duel  follows  the  7/ager,  and  Don 
Juan  kills  his  opponent. 

It  is  the  opinion  of  Alonso  Cortes  that  Merimee  furnished 


6-1  m 


. 


Tj 


. 


70  I 

Zorrilla  the  idea  of  Don  Juan's  stratagem  of  passing  off  for  the 
lady's  lover.  There  is  no  need  whatsoever  for  this  supposition; 
the  very  first  scene  of  the  Burlador  uses  the  same  device,  and  it 
was  common  long  before  Merim^e.  It  will  be  recalled  that  it  ap- 
peared in  the  San  Franco  de  Sena,  of  Moreto.  This  particular  epi- 
sode has  no  counterpart  in  Dumas'  play. 

The  idea  of  a repentant  Don  Juan  is  not  new  with  Zorri- 
lla. Merim^e  did  not  give  him  his  idea,  however,  for  Zorrilla' s 
situation  is  entirely  different  from  M^rimee's.  Dumas'  situation, 
on  the  other  hand,  is  very  similar  to  Zorrilla' s.  Dumas'  Don  Juan 
is  saved  through  the  intervention  of  a woman  he  would  have  wronged; 
so  is  Don  Juan  Tenor io.  The  woman's  influence  in  each  case  is  ex- 
erted after  her  death,  that  is,  under  mystic  circumstances.  Teno- 
rio  was  persuaded  to  repent  by  a woman  for  whom  he  had  felt  a real 
affection;  Marana  was  persuaded  to  repent,  probably,  rather  by  the 
extraordinary  phenomena  about  him  than  by  any  affection  he  might 
have  felt  for  Sister  Martha,  that  is,  he  repented  through  the  weak- 
ening rather  than  the  melting  of  his  heart,  but  nevertheless  Sis- 
ter Martha  was  the  agent  who  secured  his  expression  of  repentance. 
Said  ArmestoDX  agrees  that  the  rehabilitation  of  Don  Juan  is  no 
"invencidn  de  ultima  hora",  but  he  asserts  that  his  redemption 
through  love  is  exactly  that,  and  that  this  modern  and  romantic 
idea  was  obtained  by  Zorrilla  from  Goethe  ( sic ) . Of  course,  Zorri- 
lla knew  nothing  about  Goethe's  work;  we  have  his  wrord  for  it.  On 
the  other  hand,  no  less  a scholar  than  Farinelli  assures  us  that 
Dumas  combined  certain  elements  of  the  Faust  legend  with  the  Don 
Juan  legend. ^ This  does  not  give  us  a basis  for  Zorrilla' s idea, 


however,  since  Dumas'  Don  Juan  gives  no  evidence  of  any  real  af- 


. 


' ' 


71 


fection  for  Sister  Martha.  His  repentance  is  a sort  of  apathetic, 
half-frightened  surrender  to  her  impassioned  pleas  for  an  expres- 
sion of  belief  in  God. 

Waxman  states  in  these  words  what  most  critics  seem  to 
believe  (p.  199):  "In  Zorrilla’ s play  we  have  the  first  suggestion 
of  love  in  Don  Juan.  ...  Here  he  really  loves  In6s,  and  weeps  at 
the  sight  of  her  grave."  In  the  light  of  our  examination  of  C6r- 
doba’s  Venganza  en  el  sepulcro,  this  opinion  will  have  to  be  dis- 
carded. But  did  Zorrilla  get  his  idea  from  the  manuscript  of  C6r- 
doba's  play,  the  only  form  in  which  it  existed  in  Zorrilla1 s time? 
Probably  not;  and  he  will  either  have  to  be  given  credit  for  orig- 
inating the  idea  independently,  or  be  accused  of  knowing  more 
about  Goethe  than  he  admitted. 

The  quality  of  romantic  mysticism  and  fancifulness  in 
the  last  part  of  both  the  Zorrilla  and  Dumas  plays  is  very  similar, 
and  I have  no  doubt  whatever  that  Dumas  suggested  much  of  it  to  Zo- 
rrilla. Alonso  Cortes  thinks  it  came  from  Blaze  de  Bury  (Hans  Wer- 
ner). The  latter’s  Souper  chez  le  commandeur63  has  not,  in  my 
opinion,  a single  element  in  it  that  is  likely  to  have  furnished 
Zorrilla  any  of  his  ideas.  The  piece,  occupying  pages  497  to  558 
of  the  Revue  des  Deux  Monde s,  is  not  divided  into  acts,  nor  even 
scenes.  It  is  concerned  only  with  events  in  the  burial  place  of 

i 

the  Commandeur , whose  family  name  is  Palenquez.  There  are  only 
three  characters  which  are  common  to  all  Don  Juan  stories;  name- 
ly, the  Commandeur,  his  daughter,  and  her  seducer.  There  are 
three  other  statues  with  speaking  parts,  all  ancestors  of  the  Com- 
mandeur. There  is  none  of  the  melodramatic  fancifulness  of  Dumas 
and  Zorrilla,  beyond  the  attribution  of  the  powers  of  motion  and 


. 


■ 


. 

■ 


■ 

. 


72 


speech  to  the  statues.  There  are  long  speeches  and  practically  no 
action.  Doha  In£s'  and  Sister  Martha's  efforts  to  save  Don  Juan's 
soul  might  seem  to  be  parodied  in  Doha  Anna's  frantic  attempts  to 
get  Don  Juan  to  weep  and  pray  her  soul  out  of  purgatory,  if  it  were 
not  for  the  fact  that  Doha  Anna  appeared  in  literature  two  years 
earlier  than  Sister  Martha,  and  ten  years  before  Doha  In6s.  Don 
Juan  resists  her  pleadings  as  long  as  she  is  with  him,  but  when 
she  leaves  the  tomb,  he  begins  a monologue  and  soon  falls  to  his 
knees  and  invokes  the  Virgin  Mary,  apparently  a changed  man.  Be- 
fore leaving  the  tomb,  he  is  told  that  his  statue  will  take  its 
place  among  the  Commandeur's  ancestors  when  he  dies  if  he  has 
prayed  Doha  Anna's  soul  out  of  purgatory.  At  leaving,  apparently 
in  perfect  understanding  with  the  Commandeur,  he  announces  that  he 
is  going  out  to  take  his  part  in  the  chorus  of  men,  meaning,  I 
think,  that  he  will  enter  a monastery. 

The  much  discussed  and  unfavorably  criticised  "oville- 
jos"  of  Act  II,  scene  11,  bear  a strong  resemblance  to  a similar 
conversation  between  analogous  characters  in  Dumas'  play.  One  of 
these  characters  is  Don  Juan  and  the  other  is  the  "dueha",  called 
in  the  plays  respectively  Lucia  and  Paquita.  In  Zorrilla,  a por- 
tion of  the  dialogue  is  as  follows:  "Lucia:  lOh!  Si  es  quien  me  do- 
ra  el  pico...  Don  Juan:  Muy  rico.  Lucia:  ASi?  AQ.ue  nombre  usa  el 
galan?  Don  Juan:  Don  Juan.  Lucfa:  ASin  apellido  notorio?  Don 
Juan:  Tenorio."  The  same  purpose,  the  same  means,  and  the  same  re- 
sult, as  well  as  very  similar  ideas,  are  expressed  thus  by  Dumas 
(II,  2):  "Don  Juan:  Quant  a moi,  je  suis  le  comte  don  Juan  de  Ma- 
rana.  Paquita:  Noble?  Don  Juan:  Je  t'ai  dit  mon  nom.  Paquita: 
Riche?  Don  Juan:  Comme  une  mine  d' or.  Paquita:  Et  magnifique? 


* 


t . 


. 

• 


73 


Don  Juan:  Corame  le  roi . Paquita:  Vous  croirai-je  sur  parole?  Don 
Juan,  lul  donnant  sa  bourse:  Non,  sur  actions."  The  significant 
thing  to  be  observed  here  is  that  we  find  very  similar  conversa- 
tions in  still  more  similar  situations.  A very  similar  situation 
and  a somewhat  similar  conversation  occur  in  the  first  scene  of 
Victor  Hugo's  Hernani  between  Don  Carlos  and  Doha  Josefa,  the 
"duena"  of  Dofia  Sol.*  This  is  entirely  outside  the  realm  of  Don 
Juan  literature,  and  there  is  little  reason  to  consider  this  as  a 
possible  source  of  Zorrilla's  dialogue,  though  Dumas  might  have 
been  influenced  by  it.  Scenes  that  are  more  likely  to  have  sug- 
gested Zorrilla's  scene  than  is  this  one  from  Hugo,  are  from  Za- 
mora's and  Moreto's  plays  already  mentioned.  In  neither  case  is 
there  much  similarity  of  situation,  but  the  method  of  the  question- 
ers in  getting  information  strongly  reminds  one  of  the  scenes  just 
noted. ** 

In  connection  with  the  redemption  of  Don  Juan,  we  may  no- 
tice other  points  of  similarity  in  Dumas'  and  Zorrilla's  plays. 


Carlos:  Duegne,  c'est  ici  qu'aura  lieu  l'entretien?  Jo- 
sefa: Oui . Carlos:  Cache-moi  ceans.  Josefa:  Vous!  Carlos:  Moi. 
Josefa:  Pourquoi?  Carlos:  Pour  rien.  Josefa:  Moi,  vous  cacher! 
Carlos:  Ici.  Josefa:  Jamais!  Carlos,  tirant  de  sa  ceinture  un 
poignard  et  une  bourse:  Daignez,  madame,  choisir  de  cette  bourse 
ou  de  cette  lame.  Josefa,  prenant  la  bourse:  Vous  etes  done  le 
diable?  Carlos:  Oui , duegne . Josefa:  Entrez  ici. 

**San  Franco  de  Sena  (Bib . de  Aut . Esp. , Vol.  39,  p.  126): 
Aur elio:  AAh,  hidalgo?  Dato:  A ti  es.  Franco:  Como  no  lo  soy, 
por  no  desmentirle,  callo.  Aur elio:  Oye:  Aah,  Caballero?  Franco: 
Miente.  Aurelio:  Remitido  esta  el  agravio;  que  yo  confieso  que 
miento,  pues  debris  de  ser  villano.  Franco:  Tambi£n  miente.  Au- 
relio: Pues,  Aque  sois?  Franco:  Ni  tan  alto  ni  tan  bajo. 

No  hay  plazo  que  no  se  cuarpla  (B.  A.  E.  , Vol.  49,  p.  423): 
Luis:  AHidalgo?  Juan:  Pico  mas  alto.  Luis:  ARey  mfo?  Juan:  No 
tan  arriba.  Luis : ACaballero?  Juan:  A si  me  llamo. 


■ 


3 T 

' 

*• 

♦ 


.i  . O T ' ' - T-L**'.  tCC 

' 

Bf  .t  C 

. 

. 

■ 

♦ 


74 


The  latter’s  idea  of  a speaking  statue  of  Doha  In<§s  in  this  situa- 
tion can  scarcely  be  considered  original  in  view  of  other  points 
of  similarity  to  Dumas’  incidents,  and  it  is  unlikely  that  it  came 
from  any  other  source  than  Dumas'  version.  Naturally  it  is  not  to 
be  found  in  M&rim4e's  story  with  its  entirely  different  ending. 
Neither  could  Merim6e  have  furnished  the  idea  for  the  hourglass  on 
the  supper  table  in  the  last  act;  Dumas'  flaming  clock,  however, 
could  have  suggested  it,  and  doubtless  did.  When  Tenorio  makes  an 
inquiry  about  the  hourglass,  he  is  told  by  Don  Gonzalo  that  it  is 
marking  the  end  of  his  existence,  — that  for  every  grain  of  sand 
that  falls  in  the  glass  a moment  of  his  life  passes  away.  When 
Marana  is  given  an  hour  in  which  to  repent,  a clock  outlined  in 
flame  marks  the  passage  of  the  minutes,  but  the  spirits  of  his  vic- 
tims turn  the  hands  ahead  at  will,  just  as  Sister  Martha  stops 
them  one  second  before  the  expiration  of  the  time  in  order  to  give 
him  a chance  to  complete  his  repentance  after  he  has  made  the  de- 
cision. 

In  the  play  of  Zorrilla,  Don  Juan  suddenly  hears  a bell 
tolling  while  Don  Gonzalo  is  telling  him  of  the  future  life  to  be 
spent  in  ashes  and  fire,  and  upon  asking  the  reason,  he  learns 
that  it  is  tolling  for  him.  Shortly  afterwards  the  funeral  pro- 
cession passes  the  back  of  the  stage  and  Don  Juan  see  it.  Dumas 
has  not  used  this  incident,  although  it  is  prominent  in  the  con- 
version of  Mlrim^e's  Don  Juan.  It  does  not,  however,  originate 
with  Merimee,  and  there  was  plenty  of  opportunity  for  Zorrilla  to 
have  found  it  without  going  outside  of  Spanish  literature.  As 
early  as  1570  Antonio  Torquemada's  Jardin  de  flores  curiosas  con- 


tained such  an  incident,  and  it  appeared  about  the  same  time  (1572) 


. 


M 

' 


' trJ  JU  i x , 


t 


s 


I 


75 


in  a poem  by  Crist6bal  Bravo. It  later  became  associated  with 
the  Don  Juan  legend,  but  the  Mahara  legend  was  not  the  first  to 
combine  the  two  ideas  of  a dissolute  man  and  the  witnessing  of  his 
own  funeral.  This  had  been  done  early  in  the  seventeenth  century 
in  El  Niflo  diablo,  a manuscript  in  the  Osuna  library,  sometimes  at- 
tributed to  Lope,  but  probably  not  his,  according  to  Said  Armesto 
(p.  196).  With  slight  difference  in  details,  the  idea  is  used  in 
an  early  ballad  entitled  Lisardo  el  estudlante  de  C6rdoba  and  in 
Cristdbal  Lozano's  Soledades  de  la  vida  y desengahos  del  mundo 
(1658).  Lope  de  Vega,  in  El  Yaso  de  eleccidn.  represents  Paul  as 
seeing  his  own  funeral  on  the  road  to  Damascus. 

I think  the  case  against  Zorrilla  has  been  proved.  He 
undoubtedly  knew  more  of  the  Don  Juan  literature  as  a young  man 
than  he  remembered  as  an  old  man,  or  cared  to  admit,  for  some  in- 
explicable reason  or  other.  As  we  have  seen,  opinions  differ 
slightly  as  to  where  he  obtained  many  of  his  ideas.  All,  however, 
recognize  Dumas'  influence,  and  I am  inclined  to  believe  that  we 
need  go  no  further.  Most  of  Merimee's  ideas  were  incorporated  in 
Dumas'  "mosai’que  insensle”®5  and  those  which  appear  in  Zorrilla 
and  not  in  Dumas  have  been  available  to  the  former  in  older  Span- 
ish plays,  as  for  instance,  witnessing  his  own  funeral,  and  lead- 
ing a prospective  victim  to  believe  he  is  her  lover. 

Whatever  may  be  said  about  its  originality,  the  Tenor io 
has  long  been,  and  still  is,  extraordinarily  popular  — the  most 
popular  drama  in  nineteenth  century  Spain.  Alonso  Cortls  writes 
(p.  441)  that  "there  probably  is  in  Spain  some  one  who  has  not 
heard  of  Cervantes,  but  the  ingenious  Manchegan  nobleman  is  famil- 
iar to  all;  there  may  be  some  one  who  knows  nothing  of  Zorrilla, 


, 


> ;lr  l ]| 


. 


• 

. 

• 

• 

76 


but  no  one  will  fail  to  know  the  high-spirited  young  man  from  Se- 
ville". Elsewhere  (p.  438)  he  says,  "There  is  no  work  about  which 
more  anecdotes  are  told;  it  has  continuously  been  the  object  of  a 
thousand  parodies,®^  some  of  them  very  witty,  and  it  has  appeared 
more  than  once  on  foreign  stages,  where  it  has  been  applauded".* 
its  immense  popularity  has  not  kept  it  from  being  adversely  criti- 
cised; or  perhaps  it  might  be  better  to  say  that  its  popularity 
came  in  the  face  of  adverse  criticism.  Alonso  Cortes  quotes  in 
full  (pp.  414-18)  a criticism  published  in  El  Laberinto  of  April 
16,  1844,  when  the  play  had  still  to  gain  its  place  in  popular  es- 
teem. Apparently  it  was  not  well  received  in  spite  of  the  excel- 
lent work  of  Latorre's  company.  El  Laberinto  criticises  the  di- 
vision into  two  parts,  neither  of  which  could  be  used  separately 
as  is  the  case  in  certain  other  plays,  such  as  Zorrilla's  own  El 
Zapatero  y el  rev,  which  is  really  two  plays  on  the  same  subject. 
The  word  "religicso"  in  the  title  is  called  inexact,  and  the  chang- 
ing of  Tirso's  Don  Juan  "lo  mas  minimo"  is  considered  rash.  The 
"ovillejos"  of  the  second  act  are  censured  as  the  meter  "de  peor 
gusto  que  ha  podido  inventarse"  and  as  being  especially  bad  on  the 
stage.  The  murder  of  Don  Gonzalo  and  the  underhand  treatment  of 
Don  Luis  are  criticised  as  unnecessarily  defaming  the  character  of 
Don  Juan.  Zorrilla  is  charged  with  allowing  his  "denouement"  to 

*0n  page  441,  Alonso  Cortes  gives  this  information:  It 

has  been  twice  translated  into  French,  once  by  Achilie  Fouquier, 
in  the  Revue  Britannique,  1882,  and  again  by  Henri  de  Curzon. 

Wilde  adapted  it  in  Germany  in  1850,  and  Fastenrath  translated  it 
in  1899.  Mrs.  Cunninghame  Graham  worked  it  over  under  the  title 
of  Don  Juan*s  Last  Bet,  which  was  produced  in  London  in  1900. 

There  are  two  Italian  translations.  The  first  was  made  by  Vin- 
cenzo Giordanno-Zocchi . A later  one  was  made  by  Giulio  da  Frenzi 
(the  pseudonym  of  Luis  Federzoni)  and  Faustc  Maria  Martini. 

\ 


. 

. 


i 

■ 


*■  ■ 

1 . • . 


* 

. , 


. 


77 


degenerate  into  mere  "magic  lantern  play"  (p.  416),  and  with  lack 
of  observance  of  the  proper  steps  in  the  too  easy  and  too  hasty 
conversion  of  Don  Juan.  Alonso  Cortes  himself  criticises  the  de- 
velopment of  real  love  in  Don  Juan  as  too  rapid.  Of  the  pistol 
shot  which  ends  the  life  of  Don  Gonzalo,  he  says  (p.  431),  "Lasti- 
ma  que  el  poeta  tuviese  el  desacierto  de  idear  que  D.  Juan,  para 
deshacerse  del  Comendador,  se  valga  de  medio  tan  poco  noble 
como  el  de  soltarle  un  pistoletazo" . Revilla  criticises  the  trick- 
ery practiced  upon  Dona  Ines.^  And  so  one  might  go  on  enumera- 
ting flaws  that  have  been  found  in  the  play,  for  they  are  indeed 
numerous . 

No  one  has  spoken  more  harshly  of  it  than  Zorrilla  him- 
self. In  a letter  dated  February  1,  1871,  he  writes  of  it  as  the 
"greatest  nonsense  .that  has  ever  been  written;  it  has  no  common 
sense,  whether  considered  in  a literary,  moral,  or  religious 
light."  Six  years  later  (in  a letter  dated  March  23,  1877)  he 
wrote,  "I  am  correcting  the  Don  Juan  because  it  is  an  absurd  thing, 
the  responsibility  for  which  I do  not  want  to  be  burdened  with  at 
my  death".  In  the  Recuerdos  (Vol.  II,  p.  89),  he  speaks  of  the 
writing  of  it  as  a misfortune;  again  (Vol.  I,  p.  175),  as  some- 
thing he  did  without  knowing  what  he  was  doing.  He  insists  upon 
his  right  to  criticise  it  without  the  public's  feeling  insulted; 
his  criticism  is  not  ingratitude,  but  modesty.  Moreover,  it  is 
not  made  with  any  feeling  of  bitterness,  nor  with  any  desire  to 
discomfit  his  editors,  the  printers,  or  the  actors,  since,  although 
the  rights  of  the  work  do  not  belong  to  him,  nevertheless  he  gets 
more  than  any  of  them  do  — fame  and  the  love  of  Spanish-speaking 
people;  but  he  has  had  a long  time  to  observe  the  play  and  to  see 


. 

. 


' 

* 

u 

. . s • 

. 


. 

. 


. 


* 


78 


what  there  is  in  it  that  is  bad.  He  would  be  more  than  glad  to 

. j 

transfer  to  any  envious  person  the  authorship  of  the  play  in  order 

that  the  latter  might  enjoy  in  his  place  the  consequences  of  having 

written  it. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  play  has  had  its  share  of  praise 
as  well.  Critics  are  agreed  that  its  versification  is  one  of  its 
outstanding  good  qualities.  Another  is  the  ease  and  naturalness 
of  the  dialogue,  while  a third  is  the  very  great  effect  of  many  of 
the  scenes,  notably  in  the  first  and  fourth  acts.  Zorrilla,  too, 
had  some  words  of  praise  to  offset  the  modesty  of  his  adverse 
judgment.  He  admits  that  his  work  "has  an  excellence  that  will 
make  it  last  on  the  stage  for  a long  time,  a tutelary  genius  on 
the  wings  of  which  it  will  soar  above  the  rest  of  the  Tenorios". 

He  was  most  proud  of  having  created  the  character  of  Doha  Ines. 

The  applause  that  his  protagonist  received  seemed  to  him  like  that 
which  every  family  gives  to  its  badly  spoiled  child,  and  he  accept- 
ed it  as  such.  But  he  felt  sure  that  Doha  Ines  gained  wider  and 
less  partial  appreciation. 

In  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  said  he  received  from  the 
popularity  of  the  play  more  than  the  printers,  actors,  and  others, 
that  is,  fame  and  the  love  of  the  Spanish  people,  there  is  a note 
of  bitterness  in  his  references  to  his  own  lack  of  money.  He  as- 
serts more  than  once  that  his  play  supports,  in  a few  weeks  of  the 
year,  all  the  theatres  in  Spain  and  Spanish  America, and  in  con- 
trast, he  admits  that  he  is  in  need  of  alms.  He  asks,  "Is  it  just 
that  he  who  supports  so  many  should  die  in  an  infirmary  or  an  in- 
sane asylum  becaused  he  produced  his  Don  Juan  before  the  copyright 
laws  existed?”  He  was  later  granted  government  aid,  but  not  early 


. 

• 

« 

. 

r ' vJ 

. 

. ; 

* 


79 


enough  to  keep  his  later  years  from  being  embittered.  He  disavows 
it,  but  it  is  not  improbable  that  his  financial  difficulties 
prompted  his  tamperings  with  the  original  text  of  the  Don  Juan.  He 
worked  it  over  to  a certain  extent  in  the  autumn  of  1866,  just 
after  his  return  from  an  absence  of  more  than  fifteen  years  in  for- 
eign lands.  It  was  presented  at  a ceremony  held  in  his  honor  at 
the  Teatro  del  Principe  the  last  of  October,  and  was  well  received, 
continuing  regularly  before  overflowing  houses  for  ten  days  and  at 
intervals  for  two  months  mere.70  Nearly  a dozen  years  later  he 
attempted  another  change  in  it,  this  time  radical.  Ramirez  Angel 
suggests  (p.  155)  that  the  reason  may  be  found  in  a desire,  "tan 
l6gico  aun  en  todo  el  que  se  sobrevive",  to  continue  living,  and 
asks  that  Zorrilla's  mistake  in  regard  to  the  necessity  be  respect- 
ed. He  quotes  from  La  Esfera  of  later  date,  which  said  that  Zo- 
rrilla  wanted  to  supplant  his  Don  Juan  with  another  turned  into  a 
"zarzuela",  and  complained  that  not  only  did  he  profane  his  own 
work  by  allowing  music  to  be  substituted  for  some  of  the  scenes, 
but  he  even  amended  several  passages  of  his  immortal  creation.  He 
wanted  to  take  away  from  his  Don  Juan  some  of  his  former  vigor,  to 
soften  certain  of  the  foolhardy  undertakings  of  the  legendary  ad- 
venturer, and  to  find  fault  with  his  own  lines,  which  do  now  and 
always  will  stand  out  as  some  of  the  best  in  the  Spanish  language. 
It  was  a bold  undertaking;  the  "zarzuela"  failed,  and  the  drama  in 
seven  acts  overcame  the  "improvement"  made  by  the  drama's  very  au- 
thor, who  was  "justly  pitied  because  the  income  it  produced  was 
enriching  the  editor"  instead  of  the  author. 

it  might  be  thought  that  he  had  said  enough  about  his 
play  in  the  Recuerdos , but  he  tells  us  that  he  is  not  ready  to  ex- 


. 


, 

. 

• 

• 

• 

. 

TO 

. ' 


80 


press  himself  fully  about  it,  but  that  he  intends  to  do  so  in  a 
book  to  be  entitled  Don  Juan  Tenorio  ante  la  conclencla  de  su  au- 
tor  and  to  be  published  at  the  end  of  some  October  so  that  it  will 
be  fresh  in  the  minds  of  those  who  go  to  see  the  Don  Juan  in  No- 
vember. This  evidently  never  appeared,  but  if  it  had  done  so,  it 
would  doubtless  "have  sought  only  to  put  forth  his  right  and  duty 
to  be  modest,  to  confess  his  defects  and  faults,  so  that  no  one  at 
any  time  should  have  any  reason  to  believe  that  he  lived  in  a pea- 
cock's pride  or  dreamed  of  himself  when  he  slept". 


VIII.  MINOR  PLAYS  AND  POEMS 


Professor  Waxman,  in  his  study  of  the  Don  Juan  litera- 
ture (pp.  202-4),  gives  a chronological  list  of  ninety-eight  Don 
Juan  versions,  with  their  authors,  beginning  with  Cueva's  Infama- 
dor  (1581)  and  ending  with  Bernard  Shaw's  Man  and  Superman  (1903). 
The  date  of  the  appearance  of  Professor  Waxman' s article  alone  pre- 
vented this  list  from  extending  to  1920,  in  December  of  which  year 
there  appeared  in  Paris  a play  on  this  subject  by  M.  Henry  Bataille, 
entitled  L'homme  a la  rose.^  The  ninety-eight  titles  given  by 
Professor  Waxman  include  plays,  operas,  ballets,  farces,  operas 
bouffe,  comic  operas,  short  stories,  poems,  novels,  and  vaudeville, 
in  half  a dozen  or  more  languages.  This  number  seems  large,  but 
it  by  no  means  includes  all  literary  works  that  might  properly  be 
included.  Indeed,  it  contains  only  titles  with  something  of  a rep- 
utation; it  would  be  all  but  impossible  to  catalogue  the  innumer- 
able expressions  of  a more  ephemeral  nature.  Simply  a list  of 
those  appearing;  in  Spanish  (with  which  we  are  alone  concerned) 
would  be  formidable  and  by  no  means  easy  to  arrange,  partly  be- 
cause of  the  difficulty  that  would  be  encountered  in  deciding  in 
some  cases  whether  the  piece  really  belonged  in  the  category  of 
Dpn  Juan  versions,  and  partly  because  "raro  es  el  ano  que  en  el 
mes  de  Noviembre  no  surge  algun  poeta  satfrico  que  toma  pie  de 
aquel  asunto  para  dar  salida  a su  humor  maleante" . ^ 

Very  few  Spanish  literary  selections  of  any  "genre"  ex- 
cept the  plays  already  considered  have  assumed  much  importance. 

81  _ _____  


- 

. 

. 


Farinelli  mentions73  a parody  of  Zorrilla's  play  by  Mariano  Pina 
(whom  he  misnames  Mariano  Rico),  which  he  calls  Tenor lo,  Juan  el 
perdfo  (1848),  and  which  he  deems  superior  to  the  original.  The 
title  of  the  play,  as  published  in  Madrid  in  1899,  is  Juan  el  per- 
dfo.  Parodia  de  la  primera  parte  de  Don  Juan  Tenorio,  original  y 
en  verso.  It  is  concerned,  we  notice,  only  with  the  first  part  of 
Zorrilla's  piece.  I have  seen  no  other  expression  of  opinion  as 
to  its  merit.  There  are,  besides  this  one,  numerous  other  paro- 
dies of  the  Tenorio . Cotarelo  names  a few  of  them.  Among  the  old- 
est and  best  received  was  Don  Juan  Trapisonda,  which  was  written 
and  presented  by  the  actor  and  playwright  Don  Juan  de  Alba,  in 
1850.  Another  witty  parody  was  that  by  Salvador  Maria  Grants  en- 
titled Juanito  Tenorio  (1886).  Don  Pablo  Parellada  produced  an 
original  and  very  clever  piece  called  Tenorio  modernista.  in  1906. 
Alonso  Cortes  attributes  to  this  sane  writer  a piece  called  Teno- 
rio musical.  Others  mentioned  by  Alonso  Cortes  are  El  Novio  de 
Doha  In£s  by  Javier  de  Burgos,  Tenorio  y Me.ifa  by  Leandro  Torrome, 
Doha  Juana  Tenorio  by  Rafael  Marfa  Liern,  Tenorio  feminista  by  Pa- 
so, Servet,  Valdiva  y Lle6,  Tenorio  politico  by  Segundo  Cernuda, 

El  Audaz  Don  Juan  Tenorio  by  Antonio  Careta  Vidal,  and  Don  Juan 
Tenorio  by  Jaime  Piquet. 

Barbosa  Machado,  Barrera,  Garcia  Perez,  and  Thedphilo 
Braga,  all  cite  a play  entitled  No  hav  plazo  qua  no  llegue  ni  deu- 
da  cue  no  se  pague , said  to  have  been  written  by  the  Portuguese 
Jacinto  Cordero,  who  wrote  in  Spanish.  Braga  states  that  the  play 
was  printed  in  1667.  Cotarelo  is  of  the  opinion  that  such  a play 
never  existed.  He  thinks  that  Barbosa  confused  Zamora's  piece 
with  something  written  by  Cordero,  and  that  the  other  two  Spaniards 


. * ! 


. 


, 


* 


83 


copied  his  statement  without  verifying  the  information.  As  to  Bra- 
ga’s statement,  Cotarelo  says,  "es  sabido  el  poco  caso  que  hay  que 
hacer  de  este  prolifieo  y novelesco  historiador " If  Cordero 
wrote  such  a play,  it  doubtless  followed  the  Bur lador  more  or  less 
closely.  All  the  plays  we  have  considered  in  the  earlier  chapters 
have  done  so,  and,  subject  to  the  limitations  of  parodies,  it  is 
to  be  assumed  that  those  mentioned  earlier  in  this  chapter  have  a 
direct  relationship  with  the  legend  in  its  original  form,  even 
though  they  probably  do  not  cover  the  sarnie  ground,  nor  in  the  same 
manner . 

We  now  come  to  a play  by  L6pez  de  Ayala,  which  has  a 
much  wider  reputation  than  any  of  the  parodies  mentioned  above. 

The  title  of  this  play  is  El  Nuevo  Don  Juan  (1863),  but,  were  it 
not  for  the  title,  it  is  doubtful  if  even  the  name  of  the  protago- 
nist (which  is  Juan,  but  not  Tenorio)  would  recall  the  traditional 
legend  to  the  mind  of  the  reader.  This  Don  Juan  is  a bold,  in- 
triguing, cynical  idler  of  Madrid,  who  takes  a fancy  to,  and  seeks 
to  dishonor,  the  wife  of  an  acquaintance.  He  is  outwitted,  ridi- 
culed, and  driven  away.  He  bears  scarcely  any  resemblance  to  Tir- 
so's  Don  Juan,  and  the  play  is  still  more  unlike  El  Burlador.  The 
new  character  Don  Juan,  as  well  as  the  play  itself,  is  in  a dif- 
ferent category  from  the  old. 

The  Don  Juan  subject  has  been  handled  in  novel  form  al- 
so. None  of  the  novels  has  assumed  much  importance,  however.  Ma- 
nuel Fernandez  y Gonzalez  has  treated  the  subject  in  three  prose 
works:  namely,  Los  Tenorios  de  hoy,  Don  Migruel  de  Manara,  and  Don 


Juan  Tenorio.  The  second  deals  with  the  legend  Merimee  made  use 
of,  or  a very  similar  one,  but  Fernandez  has  added  much  and  changed 


*r  • 

. 

• 

- 

• 

. 


84 


more.  The  last  named  book  I have  not  seen.  It  is  called  a "volu- 
minous romantic  novel"  and  presumably  deals  with  the  original  leg- 
end, though  writers  who  mention  it  do  not  state  how  closely  it 
follows  the  Burlador , if  at  all. 

Three  Spanish  poets  have  put  the  legend,  in  some  aspect 
or  other,  into  non-dramatic  verse.  Espronceda,  in  1840,  wrote  El 
Estudiante  de  Salamanca.  About  twenty  years  later  Campoamor  wrote 
a poem  entitled  Don  Juan.  Still  later  Zorrilla  wrote  several 
short  poems  based  on  the  legend.  Of  these  poems,  Espronceda' s has 
become  best  known.  It  is  for  the  most  part  a lyrical  poem,  but 
dialogue  is  introduced  in  several  places.  A striking  feature  of 
the  poem  is  the  great  variety  of  versification  used  in  it.  Waxman 
says  (p.  200)  that  it  embraces  "every  form  of  poetry  conceivable", 
and  elsewhere  he  says  it  is  one  of  Espronceda' s masterpieces.  It 
does  not  treat  the  whole  legend,  but  on  the  other  hand  adds  cer- 
tain episodes  that  do  not  occur  in  the  Burlador . The  setting  is 
entirely  original,  and  except  for  the  character  of  the  protagonist, 
whose  name  becomes  Felix  de  Montemar,  and  his  comparison  with  Don 
Juan  Tenorio,  there  is  little  in  common  between  the  Burlador  of 
Tirso  and  the  Estudiante  of  Espronceda.  Don  Felix  deceives  Elvi- 
ra, who  dies  of  grief.  When  her  brother  comes  to  avenge  her  dis- 
honor, Felix  kills  him.  Then,  as  Felix  leaves  the  scene  of  the 
duel,  he  is  attracted  by  a white-robed  figure,  which  he  follows 
through  all  sorts  of  supernatural  situations,  finally  coming  to  an- 
other world.  Upon  arriving  there  he  is  proclaimed  the  husband  of 
the  white-robed  figure,  which  proves  to  be  Elvira.  He  snatches 
off  the  robe  and  discovers  a glaring  skeleton,  which  embraces  him 
and  puts  an  end  to  his  life.  ...  Dawn  lighted  up  a new  day,  which 


H k 


• 

• 

85 


dispelled  the  shadows  and  chimerical  women,  but  some  of  the  people 
returned  to  their  tasks  with  dread  in  their  hearts,  for  in  the 
guise  of  a woman  in  a mysterious  white  robe, 

"Aquella  noche  el  diablo  a Salamanca 
Habia,  en  fin,  por  Montemar  venido!!" 

The  hero  is  ruthless  and  fiendish  and  is  called  in  the  poem  a "se- 
gundo  Don  Juan  Tenor io".  It  is  Revilla’s  opinion  that  this  char- 
acterization is  justified,  and  that  Espronceda  has  succeeded  bet- 
ter than  others  in  keeping  the  character  of  the  original  Don  Juan, 
at  the  same  time,  however,  "dandole  proporciones  tales  que  exceden 
los  lfmites  de  lo  humano  y despojandole  de  toda  realidad"  ( Obras , 
p.  456).  Farinelli  remarks75  that  Felix  has  all  of  Don  Juan’s  au- 
dacity, insolence,  and  perversity,  and  somewhat  more  in  addition. 
Waxman  thinks  the  poem  "ranks  second  only  to  Tirso's  Burlador  in 
its  powerful  portrayal  of  Don  Juan".  He  adds,  "It  is  refreshing 
to  meet  again  in  this  poem  the  Don  Juan  of  old,  the  Don  Juan  of 
Tirso,  the  fearless  and  daring  libertine". 

Farinelli  calls  Campoamor 1 s Don  Juan  a "bizzarra  fanta- 
sia" which  might  well  have  been  entitled  The  Death  and  Salvation 
of  a Fugitive  from  Passion  (p.  322).  It  reminds  him  of  Hoffmann, 
Musset,  and  Heine,  and  seems  to  him  to  be  more  irony  and  sarcasm 
than  poetry.  It  consists  of  two  cantos,  the  first  being  entitled 
"Women  on  Earth",  and  the  second,  "Women  in  Heaven".  The  first 
canto  is  supposed  to  be  a continuation  of  Byron's  Don  Juan,  and 
pictures  the  hero  as  growing  old,  diseased,  and  near  death's  door, 
the  victim  of  his  excesses.  In  this  condition,  he  examines  the 
"sea  of  passions  within  himself"  and  drifts  into  repentance.  This 
leads  him  to  write  to  former  sweethearts,  asking  forgiveness  for 


. 


*.  ' 


. 


86 


the  sorrows  he  has  caused  them.  These  sweethearts  number  five, 
each  one  being  of  a different  nationality.  One  of  them  comes  to 
comfort  him,  and  although  he  tries  to  flee  from  her,  she  pursues 
him,  and  kills  him  with  kisses  and  caresses,  — sheer  love.  The 
second  canto  depicts  a scene  in  the  vestibule  of  heaven  (and  not 
heaven  itself,  as  Waxman  says).  Here  Don  Juan  is  obliged  to  under 
go  the  reproaches  of  his  victims  before  the  Supreme  Judge.  Al- 
though he  has  repented,  one  other  thing  is  necessary  to  effect  his 
salvation  from  eternal  damnation,  — namely,  the  sacrifice  of  a 
former  sweetheart.  His  Spanish  flame,  who  loved  him  on  earth  de- 
spite his  wickedness,  alone  is  willing  to  make  the  sacrifice.  She 
casts  herself  down  among  the  demons,  and  Don  Juan  ascends  trium- 
phantly to  his  place  among  the  saved  in  heaven.  Emilio  Soulere?5 
speaking  of  the  poem  as  a whole,  says,  "a  more  pert  satire  against 
the  moral  sense  of  the  human  race  than  is  Byron's  Don  Juan  could 
not  have  been  made,  nor  could  that  character  be  ridiculed  with 
more  originality  than  Campoamor  has  shown".  Revilla,  likewise  a 
Spanish  critic,  says,  on  the  other  hand,  that  Campoamor' s Don  Juan 
is  a "figura  insignif icante  y puramente  decorativa"  (p.  456). 

Besides  the  play  Don  Juan  Tenorio,  which  we  have  already 
considered,  Zorrilla  also  wrote  several  shorter  poems  touching  up- 
on some  phase  or  other  of  the  legend.  In  fact,  as  Picatoste  says 
(p.  179),  "No  poet  has  written  so  much  about  Don  Juan  Tenorio  as 
Zorrilla".  Some  of  his  poems  are:  El  Capitan  Montoya,  Margarita 
la  tornera,  El  Testigo  de  bronce,  and  El  Desaffo  del  diablo.  His 
long  poem  entitled  La  Levenda  de  Don  Juan  has  no  connection  with 
our  phase  of  the  legend.  Of  these  Don  Juan  poems  by  Zorrilla,  Fa- 
rinelli  says  (p.  321)  that  they  far  surpass  the  play.  His  reason 


: 


. 


. 


. 


87 


il 


for  thinking  so  is  that  they  are  unrestrainedly  lyrical,  while  the 
play  was  subject  to  dramatic  restrictions  to  a certain  degree. 

Margarita  la  tornera  is  the  most  popular.  It  is  the  sto- 
ry of  a gentle  convent  girl,  who  fell  in  love  with  "the  most  ex- 
pert seducer  of  women  and  girls".  She  was  prevailed  upon  to  leave 
her  convent.  Of  course,  she  was  deceived,  betrayed,  and  abandoned. 
Later  she  returned  to  the  convent  and  discovered  that  the  Virgin 
had  taken  her  place  as  "tornera"  during  her  absence.*  Don  Juan 
emerges  from  the  adventure  unscathed;  indeed,  there  is  a second 
part  of  the  poem,  of  later  date,  which  takes  him  to  Italy  to  con- 
tinue his  licentiousness. 

El  Capitan  Montoya  relates  only  one  adventure.  It  is 
the  very  old  one  which  Merimee  also  told  in  his  Les  Ames  du  pur- 
gatoire , — namely,  that  of  going  to  a rendezvous  with  a convent 
girl  and  finding  the  church  occupied  by  those  who  were  conduct- 
ing his  own  funeral  ceremony. 

There  are  other  poems  — many  others  — which  might  be 
mentioned  in  .considering  the  Don  Juan  legend  in  Spanish  literature. 
Some  of  these  omitted  may  have  a closer  relationship  with  our  leg- 


*This  conception  is  very  old  in  Spanish  literature. 
Several  of  the  "cantigas"  of  Alfonso  el  Sabio  (at  least  six:  7, 

55,  58,  59,  94,  285)  deal  with  the  flight  of  erring  nuns  from  con- 
vents. In  two  of  these  cases,  the  Virgin  befriends  the  repentant 
girl.  Number  55  tells  of  a very  fervent  devotee  of  the  Virgin, 
who  returned  from  her  disillusionment  "enceinte".  The  Virgin  mi- 
raculously caused,  not  only  her  condition,  but  also  her  absence, 
to  go  unnoticed,  besides  this,  the  Virgin  saw  to  the  rearing, 
apart  from  the  mother,  of  the  child  which  was  born  of  that  sacri- 
legious love.  Cantiga  94  is  still  more  like  Zorrilla's  legend. 

It  tells  of  the  dereliction  of  a certain  "tesorera",  who  found  up- 
on her  return  that  the  Virgin  had  been  performing  her  duties  for 
her,  and  that  her  absence  had  not  been  noticed.  (See  the  Marques 
de  Valmar's  Estudio  sobre  las  cantigas  de  D.  Alfonso  el  Sabio,  2nd. 
ed.,  Madrid,  1897,  pp.  106-109,  esp.  p.  108.) 


. 


- 


- 

. 


- 


88 


end  than  some  of  those  named,  but  none  of  the  ramifications  of  the 
"literatura  tenoriana"  follows  the  traditional  model  closely,  and 
I have  selected  for  mention  those  which  are  best  known,  and  most 
frequently  referred  to  when  the  legend  is  being  considered.  The 
legend  in  its  first  form  is  a dramatic  subject,  and  only  in  that 
"genre”  apparently  can  it  be  treated  in  its  totality  with  any  de- 
gree of  faithfulness  to  the  original  model.  Moreover,  most  of  the 
poems  of  shorter  length  were  written  under  the  influences  of  Ro- 
manticism, which  necessitated,  it  seems,  as  bizarre  characters  and 
situations  as  could  be  worked  up  by  a taste  for  the  mystic  and  the 
exotic.  This  has,  by  no  means,  of  course,  been  kept  out  of  the 
drama,  but  in  Spain  only  one  drama  of  importance  was  produced  in 
the  heyday  of  Romanticism;  and,  if  we  disregard,  as  we  well  may, 
Lopez  de  Ayala's  Nuevo  Don  Juan,  it  has  been  the  only  one  in  the 
last  two  centuries. 


' 


' . 

. 


IX.  CONCLUSION 

As  we  have  examined  the  Spanish  Don  Juan  plays,  in  chron- 
ological order  as  nearly  as  this  order  can  be  determined,  it  has 
been  evident  that  there  have  been  great  changes  from  the  original. 
The  character  of  the  protagonist,  no  less  than  the  kind  of  retri- 
bution he  suffers  for  his  waywardness,  has  kept  pace  with  the  so- 
cial development  in  the  march  of  the  centuries.  Tirso's  Don  Juan 
was  a bold,  hot-headed,  sensual,  incorrigible  young  nobleman  with 
no  capacity  for  love,  but  merely  the  possession  of  immoderate  in- 
stincts. He  was  without  a virtue,  unless  his  bravery,  which  he 
carried  to  the  point  of  foolhardiness,  might  be  so  considered;  — 
or  his  somewhat  artificial  and  excessive  "pundonor  caballeresco" , 
which  really  amounted  to  arrogance.  It  must  be  said  for  him  (and 
for  Tirso),  however,  that  he  was  not  an  atheist  or  an  infidel.  He 
did  not  disbelieve  the  existence  of  a supreme  being,  or  "post  mor- 
tem" punishment  of  sins;  in  his  heedless  pursuit  of  worldly  pleas- 
ure, he  simply  ignored  spiritual  matters.  He  left  uncommitted 
most  of  the  cowardly  acts  and  vile  deeds  of  modern  Don  Juans.  He 
was  no  assassin,  such  as  Zorrilla's  character,  nor  such  a braggart. 
He  was  not  such  a knave  as  Zamora's  detestable  and  cowardly  trick- 
ster. He  killed,  yes,  but  only  in  fair  combat.  He  challenged  a 
statue,  but  through  indignation  at  the  epithet  of  "traitor"  rather 
than  because  of  any  boastful  bravado.  With  all  his  many  "aborre- 
cibles  defectos",  he  has  certain  qualities  that  make  him  (although 
somewhat  improbable)  "mas  noble  y caballero  que  todos  los  demas". 


83 


. 


. 


. 


90 


according  to  Revilla  (p.  438). 

In  this  character,  Tirso  typified  the  "violent  expansion 
of  sensuality  playing  with  the  rules  imposed  upon  human  passions 
hy  morale  and  religion".77  This  outburst  was  not  new  in  the  sev- 
enteenth century;  it  merely  remained  for  such  a one  as  the  "fraile 
mercenario",  with  his  knowledge  of  evil  (gained  through  the  con- 
fessional, as  some  would  have  it,  or  in  a misspent  youth,  accord- 
ing to  others)  and  a desire  to  combat  it,  to  put  it  into  literary 
form  along  with  that  which  would  point  out  the  moral  lesson  bear- 
ing upon  it.  After  Tirso' s model  this  "expansion  of  sensuality" 
becajne  in  later  manifestations  a revolt,  — a real  declaration  of 
rights  of  the  individual  against  the  laws  established  by  the 
Church  and  society,  — such  as  in  Zorrilla's  piece,  where  Don  Juan 
definitely  sets  out  to  seduce  a nun,  Yfhoever  she  might  be. 

Though  Tirso  has  presented  us  a reprehensible  character, 
and  though  he  may  have  painted  him  in  such  a way  as  to  cause  a 
suspicion  of  some  sympathy  with  him,  the  "denouement"  of  the  play 
indicates  a rigid  severity  of  moral  purpose.  In  spite  of  the 
Christian  doctrine  of  eleventh  hour  repentance,  Tirso  condemns  his 
procrastinating  hero,  although  he  begs  forgiveness  and  calls  for  a 
confessor.  Cdrdoba  has  his  Don  Juan  summarily  dragged  down  to 
hell  before  he  weakens  enough  to  realize  that  his  last  hour  has 
come;  this  Don  Juan,  therefore,  makes  no  appeal  for  clemency.  His 
end  cuts  short  on  his  lips  a boast  that  he  will  yet  possess  Doha 
Ana.  These  were  both  in  the  seventeenth  century.  In  the  eighteen- 
th century,  Zamora  left  the  fate  of  his  despicable  brawler  in 
doubt.  In  the  nineteenth  century,  Zorrilla  "opened  the  gates  of 
glory"  for  his  gambler  on  women's  honor. 


. 


. 

. 

Li’f-s 


91 


Cdrdoba's  character,  close  to  Tirso' s in  point  of  time, 
was  changed  considerably,  but  not  to  the  same  degree  nor  in  the 
same  manner  as  later  ones.  La  Venganza  deals  with  only  one  epi- 
sode of  the  hero's  amorous  adventures,  but  presents  him  in  several 
combats,  and  has  him  tell  of  others,  in  all  of  which  he  accomplish- 
es stupendous  feats.  He  has  as  much  (if  not  more)  taste  for  fight- 
ing as  for  love-making.  He  is  not  the  suave  gentleman  of  seduc- 
tive charm  that  Tirso  painted;  he  is  a corner  bully,  nothing  more 
nor  less. 

Zamora's  character,  who  seems  to  have  been  saved,  was  a 
coarse,  vulgar  "rufian",  whose  language  was  entirely  unsuited  to 
his  station  — that  of  a Sevillian  nobleman.  Revilla  thinks  that 
Zamora's  play  is  the  most  wretched  of  all  imitations  of  Tirso' s 
Burlador,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  its  author  tried  to  follow  the 
original  closely.  He  deprived  his  protagonist  of  every  noble  sen- 
timent, made  him  impudent  and  cynical  in  the  extreme,  and  had  him 
do  evil  without  any  need  — even  for  furthering  his  pleasures. 

After  every  kind  of  braggadocio,  this  eighteenth  century  Don  Juan 
showed  himself  an  utter  coward  at  the  end.  Filled  with  terror  and 
anguish  he  fell  at  the  feet  of  the  Comendador  and  begged  for  mer- 
cy, "which  he  apparently  received,  to  the  moral  hurt  of  the  play"?8 

In  the  next  century,  Zorrilla  falsified  the  original  Don 
Juan  completely;  — or  perhaps  we  might  lay  this  at  Dumas'  door. 
When  Don  Juan  crossed  the  Spanish  frontier  at  the  beginning  of  his 
world  travels,  he  became  a foreigner,  because,  being  typically 
Spanish,  he  could  not  otherwise  be  fully  understood  where  he  went. 
He  became  a character  "que,  al  volver  a su  patria,  los  espaSoles 
le  tendrfan  por  extraho".79  He  did  return  to  his  native  land,  and 


• 

( '• 

• 

* 


92 


he  was  no  longer  the  typically  Spanish  character  that  Tirso  creat- 
ed. In  fact,  says  Revilla,  he  is  no  longer  a character  at  all. 

He  is  a strange  composite  of  inexplicable  contradictions  in  which 
there  is  only  one  steady  quality,  namely,  bravado.  In  the  first 
act  he  is  a bold  profligate,  in  the  second  an  underhanded  traitor, 
and  then  in  turn  a passionate  and  tender  lover,  an  assassin,  and 
then  the  weak-willed  and  craven  fugitive  who  abandons  the  girl  he 
professes  to  love.  "From  a generous  and  noble  spirit,  he  becomes 
a contemptible  rufian".80 

Zorrilla's  composite  of  Spanish,  French,  and  German  Don 
Juans  represents  what  Gendarme  de  Bevotte  calls  a different  "don- 
juanisme".  From  the  material  manifestation  it  becomes  ideal,  and 
sometimes  metaphysical.  The  break  comes  quite  suddenly.  Up  to 
the  nineteenth  century,  Tirso  was  followed  more  or  less  closely, 
depending  to  some  extent  upon  the  ability  of  the  writer  to  inter- 
pret Tirso' s character.  In  many  cases  no  new  situations  had  been 
introduced.  This  was  true  especially  of  the  Italian  imitations, 
some  of  which  were  mere  translations.  It  was  true  also,  to  a high 
degree,  of  the  French  productions,  which  were  largely  close  imita- 
tions of  the  Italian  versions.  The  great  change  in  the  treatment 
of  the  old  legend  came  with  the  Romantic  movement  in  literature. 
Most  of  the  change  took  place  outside  of  Spanish  literature,  but 
was  summarized,  as  it  were,  in  Spain,  in  Zorrilla's  play.  This 
latter,  however,  still  retains  much  similarity  to  the  original 
form,  and  it  is  in  the  poems  that  we  find  most  change.  It  is,  for 
the  most  part,  to  such  material  as  these  poems,  and  those  in  other 
languages,  and  also  to  such  plays  as  L6pez  de  Ayala's  Nuevo  Don 


Juan,  that  Farinelli  refers  when  he  writes  as  follows:81 


* 

* 


- 


. 


93 


"The  Don  Juan  of  modern  times  is  only  a pale  reflec- 
tion of  the  hero  of  the  old  legend;  he  recalls  the  old  only 
in  name,  so  much  has  his  aspect  changed,  so  weakened  and  un- 
recognizable has  he  become.  ...  Romanticism  stamped  him  with 
its  fantastic  and  sentimental  whims,  with  its  sighs  and  lamen- 
tations by  moonlight,  with  the  fantastic,  the  gloomy,  and  the 
mystic.  ...  More  recent  philosophical  and  speculative  "elocu- 
brazioni"  have  robbed  him  of  every  Don  Juan  ardor,  and  have 
made  him  old  and  pedantic.  ...  The  legendary  Don  Juan  was  a 
dramatic  figure;  now  he  is  lyric,  almost  elegiac.  Once  he 
was  a man  of  action,  of  instinct;  now  he  is  irresolute,  re- 
flective, meditative.  Like  a butterfly  that  flits  from  flow- 
er to  flower,  he  went  from  pleasure  to  pleasure;  now  pleasure 
is  the  fountain  of  ills,  of  disgust;  he  does  not  know  to  what 
cup  to  place  his  lips,  for  every  liquor  seems  bitter,  even 
poisonous . " 

After  several  pages  of  indictment  against  the  new  Don 
Juan,  who  has  lost  his  vigor  and  is  capable  only  of  petty  emotions 
and  ineffectual  reactions  thereto,  Farinelli  asks  with  consider- 
able sarcasm,  "Perche  non  lo  chiameremo  San  Don  Giovanni?" 

This  great  change,  while  not  exactly  gradual,  required  a 
long  period  of  time  in  its  evolution,  and  indirectly  bears  witness 
to  the  wide  diffusion  of  the  subject.  This  remarkable  and  appar- 
ently increasing  popularity  naturally  gives  rise  to  consideration 
of  the  reasons  for  such  diffusion.  Gendarme  de  B^votte  advances 
three  reasons:  first,  human  interest  in  the  supernatural  element; 
second,  the  universal  value  of  the  moral,  and  its  easy  adaptation 
to  time  and  country;  and  third,  the  character  of  the  hero,  in  whom 


...  . 


* 

94 


it  has  been  possible  to  incarnate  different  ages.  In  a somewhat 
pessimistic  vein.  Pi  y Margall  explains  it  thus:  "The  crowds  like 
to  see,  at  least  on  the  stage,  courageous  souls,  now  that  in  real 
life  one  scarcely  ever  sees  any  but  wavering  and  timorous  souls, 
as  vicious  as  that  of  Don  Juan,  but  whose  vices  are  hidden  under 
the  veil  of  hypocrisy”  (p.  xxx). 

The  legend  received  renewed  attention  from  the  Romanti- 
cists, as  I have  already  indicated  in  the  previous  chapter.  In 
that  school,  writers  began  to  write  as  they  lived  and  thought,  and 
Don  Juan  ”was  a prime  favorite  with  those  Romanticists  who,  like 
Gautier,  felt  'll  est  indecent  et  mauvais  ton  d'etre  vertueux' ”.82 
This  may  account  for  a part  of  Don  Juan's  popularity  in  a certain 
epoch,  and  in  certain  places,  but,  for  the  most  part,  in  Spain  it- 
self, "his  libertinage  is  wholly  subsidiary  and  incidental".  On 
the  other  hand,  "his  bravery  transcends  all  known  standards,  and 
this  one  virtue,  though  it  does  not  save  him  from  hell,  redeems 
him  in  popular  esteem". 8^ 


seems  to  be  in  human  nature  something  that  is  attracted  by  open 
defection  from  the  ranks  of  conventionality.  Personal  liberty  is 
a thing  dear  to  the  hearts  of  all,  and  he  who  makes  license  of 
personal  liberty  invariably  attracts  attention,  and,  perhaps  more 
often  than  not,  admiration  as  well.  Pi  y Margall 's  pessimism  is 
not  all  unfounded;  hypocrisy  does  exist,  and  perhaps  his  explana- 
tion of  the  popularity  of  the  character  who  revolts  against  con- 
vention is  not  far  wrong.  It  may  be,  moreover,  that  he  has  said 
the  same  thing,  in  different  words  and  with  less  show  of  astute 
analysis,  that  Gendarme  de  Bevotte  said.  It  is  certain  that  Re- 


Whether  Romanticists,  or  Spaniards,  or  what  not,  there 


• 

• 

■ 

. 


. 


95 

villa  is  right  in  saying  (p.  456)  that  in  a country  as  religious 
as  Spain,  an  immense  vogue  would  be  natural  for  a "beautiful  and 
grandiose  representation  of  divine  justice,  before  which  no  hay 
plazo  que  no  se  cumpla  ni  deuda  que  no  se  pague".  But  that  is  not 
all  he  says.  He  adds  that  as  a "personification  of  a certain  as- 
pect of  human  nature,  namely,  the  will  maintaining  itself  against 
all  law,  throwing  off  every  restraint,  and  yielding  only  to  the 
hand  of  God,  Tenorio  had  to  become  popular  in  the  entire  world; 
and  there  is  no  need  to  say  that  he  would  be  so  in  Spain,  being  an 
exact  reflection  of  the  Spanish  race  in  one  of  its  most  character- 
istic aspects",  that  is,  in  its  spirit  of  revolt  against  restraint. 


V Jt 

, 


* 

, . 


NOTES 


1.  The  Loeb  Classical  Library,  New  York,  1913.  Ch.  69,  p.  131. 

2.  Don  Juan  Tenorio.  p.  30. 

3.  The  Don  Juan  Legrend  in  Literature,  p.  185. 

4.  Fitzmaurice-Kelly,  Don  Juan,  in  the  New  Review,  p.  513. 

5.  Hispania,  Vol.  Ill  (1920),  p.  97. 

6.  Don  Giovanni . in  the  Giornale  storico  della  letteratura  ital- 

iana,  Vol.  XXVII  (1896),  pp.  1-77,  254-326. 

F.  de  Simone  Brouwer,  another  Italian,  published  a 
somewhat  pretentious  study  three  years  before  Farinelli,  but 
it  was  entirely  too  brief  to  cover  the  ground  it  sought  to 
cover.  Moreover,  it  was  prepared  without  suff icient'study  of 
the  argument,  or  of  the  origin  and  development  of  the  legend. 
The  author  obviously  lacked  a broad  and  sure  acquaintance 
with  foreign  literatures  dealing  with  the  legend,  as  well  as 
the  ability  to  form  independent  judgment.  Farinelli  himself 
ungraciously  calls  it  a "pesimo  traba.io  of  an  obscure  Neapol- 
itan writer".  The  title  of  the  book,  which  was  published"  in 
Naples  in  1894,  is  Don  Giovanni  nella  poesia  e nell1  arte  mu- 
sicals . 

7 . Cuatro  palabras  sobre  Don  Juan  v la  literatura  don.iuanesca . in 

Homena.ie  a Men^ndez  y Pelayo,  Vol.  I , p.  205. 

8.  La  Legende  de  Don  Juan.  Paris,  1906. 

9.  La  Levenda  de  Don  Juan.  Madrid,  1908. 

10 . The  Don  Juan  Legend  in  Literature,  in  the  Journal  of  American 

Folk-Lore , Vol,  XXI,  1908. 

11.  The  writer  of  this  article  is  Professor  Benjamin  7/.  7/ells. 

12.  Discurso  preliminar  to  Comedias  de  Tirso  de  Molina.  Vol.  I,  p. 

v . (In  Nueva  Bib,  de  Aut . Esp.  , Vol.  IV.  ) 

13.  Quoted  by  Said  Armesto,  op.  cit . , p.  83,  note  1. 

14.  Gendarme  de  Bevotte,  La  Legende  de  Don  Juan , p.  22. 

15.  Gendarme  de  Bevotte,  ibid. , p.  25. 


16.  Said  Armesto,  op.  cit.,  p.  92. 
96 


• . 

. 

. 

. 

. 

.. 


. 


- 

. 


. 


97 


17.  Said  Armesto,  op . c i t . . p.  97. 

18.  Said  Armesto,  op.  cit.  , p.  123. 

19.  Op.  clt.t  p.  179. 

20.  Op.  cit.  , pp.  191-202. 

21.  The  passage  in  question  is  quoted  by  Said  Armesto,  op.  cit. . 

pp.  228-9. 

22.  Waxman,  op.  ci t . , p.  197. 

23.  Les  Ames  du  purgatoire,  p.  297. 

24.  He  expresses  this  opinion  in  his  article  entitled  Don  Giovanni. 

25.  Catalogo  razonado  del  teatro  de  Tirso  de  Molina,  in  the  Nueva 

Biblioteca  de  Autores  Espaholes,  Vol.  IX,  p.  viii. 

26*  Tirso  de  Molina.  Conferencia,  p.  25. 

27.  Don  Juan,  in  the  Encyclopaedia  Britannica,  Vol.  VIII,  p.  416. 

28.  Aristotle  (b.  384  B.C.)  mentions  in  his  Poetica  (Ch.  IX.  Di- 

dot's Greek  and  Latin  edition,  Paris,  1848,  Vol.  I,  p.  465) 
the  story  of  Mitios,  of  Argos,  whose  statue  avenged  him  upon 
his  murderer  by  crushing  him  to  death  (English  translation  of 
Thomas  Twining,  second  edition,  2 vols.  London,  1812,  Vol.  I, 
p.  130).  Plutarch  (50  A.D. ) tells  a similar  story  ( Scripta 
Moralia:  De  sera  numinis  vindiota,  Ch.  VIII.  Didot's  Greek 
and  Latin  edition,  Paris,  1856,  Vol.  I,  p.  669.  English 
translation,  Plutarch's  Morals,  by  W.  W.  Goodwin,  Boston,  Lit- 
tle, Brown  and  Co.,  1871,  Vol.  IV,  p.  153).  Pausanias  (late 
second  century  A.D.)  keeps  the  tale  alive  in  his  Descriptio 
Graeciae  (Edition  by  Schubart  and  Walz,  London  and  Leipzig, 
1838,  Vol.  II,  p.  397.  Book  VI,  Elis,  Chap.  XI,  sec.  2.  Eng- 
lish translation  by  J.  G.  Frazer,  London,  Macmillan.  1898, 

Vol,  I,  p.  299).  He  writes  thus  about  one  Theagenes:  "When 
he  departed  this  world,  one  of  the  men  who  had  been  at  enmi- 
ty with  him  in  his  life  came  every  night  to  the  statue  of 
Theagenes,  and  whipped  the  bronze  figure  as  if  he  were  mis- 
treating Theagenes  himself.  The  statue  checked  his  insolence 
by  falling  on  him,  but  the  son  of  the  deceased  prosecuted  the 
statue  for  murder.  The  Thasians  sunk  the  statue  in  the  sea." 
Said  Armesto  quotes  (p.  103,  note)  from  the  works  of  Suidas 
970  A.D.),  which  contain  a similar  tale  about  one  Nic6n,  an 
athlete  of  Thasos, 

29.  Estudios  de  crftica  literaria,  2a.  serie,  p.  188. 

30.  Espaha  Moderna.  June,  1889,  p.  149. 

31.  La  Legende  de  Don  Juan,  pp.  14  ss. 


. 


* 


' 

. 


. 

. 


98 


32.  Picatoste,  op.  cl t . , p.  107. 

33.  Cf.  p.  v of  the  "Adver tencia"  to  the  edition  of  the  Tan  largo 

in  the  Colecci(5n  de  libros  espanoles  raros  o curiosos,  Vol.- 

xn.  ' 

34.  Catalogo  razonado,  p.  vii. 

35.  Comedias  de  Tirso  de  Molina.  Vol.  II,  p,  623. 

36.  Consult  Fitzraaurice-Kelly * s Lope  de  Vega  and  the  Spanish  Drama 

(pp.  55-57,  esp.  p.  57),  where  may  be  found  a list  of  Cal- 
deron's borrowings  from  Lope. 

37.  Waxman,  op.  cit . , p.  191. 

38.  Cf . Tirso  de  Molina  (1893),  p.  121,  and  also  the  Cat.  raz. 

(1907*77  p.  vii. 

39.  Catalogo  razonado,  p.  vii,  col.  2, 

40.  Tirso  de  Molina,  p.  119. 

41.  In  Tirso  de  Molina,  p.  119,  we  read  as  follows:  "y  por  fin, 

observase  que  la  mania,  que  asf  puede  llamarse  la  tendencia, 
muchas  veces  inoportuna,  de  escribir  'iTan  largo  me  lo  fiais?' 
conduce  a justificar  el  titulo  de  la  obra,  mientras  que  en  El 
Burlador  se  escribe  este  verso  indistintamente  de  esa  manera, 
y de  esta  otra:  ' JCue  largo  me  lo  fiais'. ',  segun  lo  requiere 
el  sentido." 

42.  Homena.ie  a Menendez  y Pelayo , Vol.  I,  p.  265. 

43.  Comedias  de  Tirso  de  Molina,  in  the  Nueva  Bib.  de  Aut.  Esp. . 

Vol.  IX,  pp.  683-708.  ' 

44.  Dramaticos  poster  lores  a Lope  de  Vep-a.  Vol.  II,  p.  xix. 

45.  Quoted  in  Picatoste,  op.  cit ♦ , p.  134. 

46.  History,  0f  Spanish  Literature.  4th  edition,  Vol.  II,  p.  511. 


47. 

Op . 

cit.,  Vol 

. V,  p. 

• 

00 

Don 

Giovanni , 

p.  70. 

49. 

See 

below,  p. 

56. 

50. 

Don 

Giovanni , 

p.  71. 

51 . Ibid. 


52.  Zorrilla,  su  vida  v sus  obras , p.  405  and  elsewhere. 


53 . El  Tenor io  de  Zorrilla,  p.  155. 


99 


54.  This  statement  appears  in  La  Grande  Encvclopgdle . Vol.  XXIV, 

p.  337,  under  the  signature  of  "G.P-I."  The  fifth  edition 'of 
the  Diccionario  enciclopgdioo  de  la  lengua  castellana.  Vol. 
II,  p.  341,  states  that  he  became  a priest  "en  los  ultimos 
anos  de  su  vida" . Cotarelo's  denial  may  be  found  in  the  Ca- 
talogo razonado,  p.  x. 

55.  El  Tenorio  de  Zorrilla,  p.  155. 

56.  Quoted  by  Ramirez  Angel,  in  Zorrilla . p.  81. 

57 . El  Romantlcismo  en  Espana , p . 96 . 

58.  Revue  des  deux  mondes,  August  15,  1834. 

59.  This  information  was  conveyed  to  the  writer  in  a letter  dated 

April  6,  1921. 

6 0 . Catalogo  razonado , p . x . 

61.  La  Leyenda  de  Don  Juan , p.  252. 

62.  Don  Giovanni,  p.  315. 

63.  Revue  des  deux  mondes.  June  1,  1834. 

64.  For  quotation,  cf.  Said  Armesto,  op . c i t . , pp.  227  ss. 

65.  Quoted  by  Farinelli,  in  Don  Giovanni . from  Blaze  de  Bury's 

Alexandre  Dumas,  sa  vie,  son  temps,  son  oeuvre,  p.  75. 

66.  He  gives  a list,  on  page  440,  of  about  a dozen  titles  that  he 

remembers . 

67.  Quoted  by  Alonso  Cortes,  op.  oit. , p.  429. 

68.  Recuerdos , Vol.  I,  p.  165. 

69.  Recuerdos.  Vol.  I,  pp.  iii  and  vii. 

70.  Ramirez  Angel,  op.  cit . . p.  146. 

71.  This  play  was  printed  in  La  Petite  illustration  theatrale  of 

January  22,  1921. 

72.  Cotarelo  y Mori,  Catalogo  razonado , p.  x. 

73.  Don  Giovanni . p.  320. 

74.  Catalogo  razonado.  p.  ix. 

75.  Don  Giovanni . p.  318. 

76.  " Adver t enc ia ” to  his  edition  of  the  Obras  escogidas.  Brock— 

haus,  Leipzig,  1885,  p.  x.  ' 


.*,•  ..... 


' 


. 


. 

. 

. 

' 


■ 


77.  Gendarme  de  bevotte,  La  Legende  de  Don  Juan,  p.  3. 

78.  Revilla,  Obras , p.  445. 


100 


79.  Picatoste,  op . ci t ♦ , p.  45. 

80.  Revilla,  Obras , p.  452. 

81.  bon  Giovanni , p.  292  s. 

82.  Northup,  op . c i t . . p.  xli. 

83.  Northup,  ibid . 

\ 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 


Alonso  Cortes,  Narciso,  Zorrilla,  su  vida  v sus  obras.  Vallado- 
lid, Imprenta  castellana,  1916. 

Alsina,  Jose,  Museo  dramdtico  (Variedades  tfiatralftn).  Madrid, 
Renaoimiento , 1918. 

Barine,  Arvede,  Leg  Origines  de  Den  Juan,  in  the  Revue  politique 
et  litteraire.  Paris,  Oct.  15,  1881.  ' 

Barres,  Maurice,  Une  Vi  site  k Don  Juan,  in  Du  Sang,  de  la  volupte 
et  de  la  mort.  Paris,  Emil e-Paul  Fr&res,  1894. 

Bataille , Henry,  L1 Homme  a la  rose,  in  La  Petite  illustration 
th^atrale.  Paris,  January  22,  1921. 

Blanca  de  los  Rfos  de  Lamperez,  Tirso  de  Molina  (Conferencing. 
Madrid,  Rodriguez,  1906. 

Blanco  Garcia,  P.  Francisco,  La  Literatura  espaflola  en  el  siglo 
XIX.  3 vols.  Parte  primera,  3d  ed.  Madrid,  Saenz  de  Jubera 
Hermanos,  1909. 

Blaze  de  Bury  (See  Werner,  Hans). 

Bonilla  y San  Martin,  Adolfo,  Sane ho  Garcia  (Zorrilla),  in  Clasi- 
£Qs__4e..la  literatura  espanola.  Madrid,  Ruiz  Hermanos,  1917. 

Buchanan,  Milton  A.,  El  Esclavo  del  demonio  (Mira  de  MescuaK 
Chicago,  1906.  ~ L 

Byron,  Lord,  Don  Juan  (1819),  in  The  Plays  and  Poems  of  Lord  By- 
ron, Vol.  III.  London  and  New  York,  Dutton,  1910(?). 

Campoamor,  Ramon, _ Don  Juan,  in  Pequerias  poernas,  in  Coleccion  de 
autores  espanoles.  Vol.  II.  Leipzig,  Brockhaus,  1885. 

Castro,  Adolfo  de,  El  Tenor io  de  Zorrilla.  in  La  Espana  moderna. 
Madrid,  Idamor  Moreno,  June,  1889.  ~ 

Cejacior  y Frauca,  Julio,  His  tori  a de  la  lengua  y literatura  caste- 
liana.  5 vols.  Madrid,  1915.  ~ ~ ~ 

Cervantes,  Miguel  de,  El  Ruflan  dichoso.  Madrid,  1916. 

Claramonte,  Andres  de,  ITan  largo  me  lo  fiais?.  in  Cornelias  de 

Tirso  de  Molina,  in  Nueva  Bib,  de  Aut.  Esp. . Vol.  IX,  Madrid, 


101 


' :*v 


oc 


. 


. 


* 


. 


. 


102 


C6rdoba  y Maldonado,  Alonso  de,  La  Venganza  en  el  seoulcro , in 
Nueva  Bib,  de  Aut.  Esp.,  Vol.  IX.  Madrid,  1907. 

Cotarelo  y Mori,  Emiliano,  Catalogo  razonado  del  teatro  de  Tirso 
de  Molina,  in  Vol.  II,  of  Comedias  de  Tirso  de  Molina,  in 
Nueva  B.  A.  E. , Vol.  IX.  Madrid,  1907. 

1 Pi  sour  so  pr ellminar , Vol.  I,  of  Comedias  de  Tir- 

_s_o  de  Molina,  in  Nueva  B . A . E . . Vol.  IV.  Madrid,  1906. 

# Tirso  de  Molina.  Madrid,  Enrique  Rubifios,  1893. 

> Ultlmos  estudios  acerca  de  "El  Burlador  de  Sevi- 
lla" , in  the  Revista  de  Archivos,  Vol.  XVIII  (1908K  Madrid. 

Cueva,  Juan  de  la,  El  Infamador  (1580),  in  Tesoro  del  teatro  esoa- 
nol  (Ochoa),  Vol.  I.  Paris,  Baudry,  1863. 

De  Simone  Brouwer,  F.,  Ancora  Don  Giovanni . in  Rassegna  critica 
della  letteratura  italiana,  Anno  II.  Napoli,  1897. 

Dlccionario  enciclop4dico  de  la  lengua  castellana . Paris,  Garni er 
Hermanos,  no  date. 

Dieulafoy,  Marcel,  Le  Theatre  edifiant.  Paris,  Bloud,  1907. 

Dumas,  Alexander,  pere,  Don  Juan  de  Marana,  ou  la  Chute  d'un  ana-e . 
Paris,  1836.  ~~~ 

Encyclopaedia  Americana.  Article  on  Don  Juan  by  B.  W.  Wells  (?). 
Vol.  IX,  p.  257.  New  York,  1918. 

Engel,  Karl,  Die  Don  Juan— Sage  auf  der  Biihne.  Oldenburg  and  Leip- 
zig, 2nd.  ed. , no  date. 

Espronceda,  Jos£,  El  Estudiante  de  Salamanca,  in  edition  by  G.  T. 
Northup.  Boston,  Ginn,  1919. 

Faguet,  E.,  La  Fin  de  Don  Juan,  in  the  Revue  Bleue.  Paris,  March 


Farinelli,  Arturo, ^ Cuatro  palabras  sobre  Don  Juan  y la  literatura 
donjuanesca , in  Homena.le  a Menendez  v Pelavo.  Madrid.  V.  Sun- 
r ez , 1899 . 

? Don  Giovanni , in  the  Giornale  storioo  della  let- 
teratura  italiana,  Vol.  XXVII.  Torino  and  Roma,  1896 . 

7 A review  of  de  Simone  Brouwer's  book,  in  the  Re- 

vista  critica  de  historia  v literatura  espanolas,  Vol.  T. 
Madrid,  Suarez,  1895 . ~ 

Fernanuez- Guerra ^y  Orbe,  Luis,  Catalogo  razonado  de  las  comedias 
— Agustin  More  to  y Cabana,  in  Comedias  escogidas.  in  the 
Bib,  de  aut.  esp.,  Vol.  XXXIX.  Madrid,  1856  (?)• 


103 


Fernandez  y Gonzalez,  Manuel,  Don  Miguel  de  Manara . Memoriae  del 
tlempo  de  Carlos  V.  Madrid,  SancHez-Rubio,  1880.  “ 

Ferrer  del  Rfo,  Galeria  de  la  literatura  espanola.  Madrid,  Mel la- 
do,  1846. 

Fitzmaurice-Kelly,  James,  Don  Juan,  in  the  Encyclopaedia  Britanni- 
ca,  11th  edition.  Cambridge,  1910. 

> Don  Juan,  in  the  New  Review,  Vol.  XIII.  London, 

1895. 


9 Historia  de  la  literatura  espailola.  Madrid,  1913. 

, Lope  de  Vega  and  the  Spanish  Drama,  being  the 

Taylorian  Lecture  (1902).  London  and  Glasgow,  Gowans  and 
Gray,  1902. 

Franquesa  y Gomis,  Jos£,  nLa  Ven;?anza  en  el  seoulcrotl,  comedia  in- 
edita  de  D.  Alonso  de  Cordoba  v Maldonado,  in  Homena.ie  a Me- 
njndez  y Pelayo , Vol.  I,  p.  253.  Madrid,  1899. 

Fua,  Franco,  Don  Giovanni  attraverso  le  letterature  spacrnuola  e 
italiana. Torino  and  Genova,  Lattes,  1920  (?). 

Fuensanta  del  Valle,  Marques  de,  "Advertencia  de  los  editores"  to 
Comedias  de  Tlrso  de  Molina  y de  D.  Guillen  de  Castro,  in  the 
Coleccion  de  libros  espafloles  raros  o curiosos.  Vol.  XII. 
Madrid,  Fortanet,  1878. 

Gendarme  de  B^votte,  G. , Le  Festin  de  Pierre  avant  Molikre.  Paris 
Comely,  1907.  — — 

7 — 7 > La  Legende  de  Don  Juan.  Son  evolution  dans  la 

litterature  des  origines  au  romanticisme . Paris,  1906. 

Goethe,  J.  W.,  Faust,  a Tragedy.  Translated  from  the  German  by 

Charles  T.  Brooks.  16th  ed.  Boston,  Houghton-Mif f lin,  no  date 

Haraucourt,  Edmond,  "Preface"  to  Don  Juan  de  Manara  (1898).  Paris, 
Charpentier,  1901. 

Hugo,  Victor,  Hernani  (1830). 

Icaza,  Francisco  A.  de.  Foreword  to  Comedias  v Tragedian  da  Juan 
de  la  Cueva.  2 vols.  Madrid,  1917.  ""  " 

Ildefonso  de  Oveias,  Obras  de  Jose  Zorrllla.  3 vols.  Paris,  Gar- 
nier,  1847  (?).  ~~ 

Laverdant,  Desire,  Les  Renaissances  de  Don  Juan.  Histoire  morale 
du  theatre  moderne.  Vol.  I.  Paris,  Hetzel,  no~  date. 


Lemaitre , Jules,  Impressions  de  theatre,  la.  ser.  Paris,  Lecene, 
Oudin  et  Cie.,  1890. 


104 


L6pez  de  Ayala,  Adelardo,  El  Nuevo  Don  Juan  (1863),  in  Colecci6n 
de  escritores  Castellanos,  Vol.  XXVI.  Madrid,  Dubrull,  1885. 

Louandre,  Charles,  OEuvres  completes  de  Moliere.  edition  variorum. 
3 vols.  Paris,  Charpentier,  no  date.  ’ 

Martinenche,  E.,  Moli&re  et  le  theatre  espagnol.  Paris,  Hachette, 


Men^ndez  Pidal,  Ram6n,  Sobre  los  orfgenes  de  "El  Convidado  de  pie- 
in  Cultura  Espanola,  Vol.  T.  Madrid,  Apalategui,  1906. 

MenSndez  y Pelayo,  Marcelino,  Estudios  de  crftica  literaria.  la 
seria,  in  Coleccion  de  escritores  Castellanos,  Vol.  XV. 
Madrid,  1893.  2a  serie,  Vol.  106.  Madrid,  1895. 

M&rimge,  Prosper,  Les  Ames  du  purgatoire  (1834),  in  volume  en- 
titled Colomba.  Paris,  Calmann-L^vy , no  date. 

Mesonero  Romanos, , Dramaticos  posteriores  a Lope  de  Vega.  in 

Bib,  de  aut . esp. . Vol.  XLIX.  Madrid.  ~ ~ 

Moliere,  J.B.P.,  Don  Juan,  ou  le  Festin  de  Pierre  (1665),  in  edi- 
tion by  C.  Louandre.  Paris,  no  date. 

Moncrieff,  Thomas  William,  Giovanni  in  London,  or  the  Libertine 

in  The  London  Stage.  London,  Sherwood,  no  date. 
(Number  110  — no  pagination  — in  Vol.  III.) 

Moreto  y Cabana,  Agustfn,  _San  Franco  de  Sena,  in  Bib.  de  aut.  eso 
Vol.  XXXIX.  Madrid,  1856  (?). “ " P 

New  International  Encyclopaedia,  Article  on  Don  Juan,  unsigned. 

New  York,  1915.  b 

Northup,  G.  T.,  El  Estudiante  de  Salamanca  and  other  Selections. 
Boston,  Ginn,  1919.  

Petronius  Arbiter,  Satyr icon,  translated  by  Michael  Heseltine,  in 
tile  L_oeb  Classical  Library.  New  York,  1913. 

Phixlips,  W.  A.,  Faust , in  the  Encyclopaedia  Britannica,  11th  ed. . 
Vol.  X,  p.  210.  Cambridge,  1910.  ~ 

Pi  y Margall  ,_F . , Obse r ^vapio ne s_so b r e el  caracter  de  don  Juan  Te- 
nori^o.  Prologue  to  edition  of~iTan  largo  me  id  f ia.iV? . Ma- 
drid,  Fortanet,  1878.  ~ ~ 

Picatoste,  Felipe,  Don  Juan  Tenorio.  Madrid,  Gaspar,  1883. 

Pina,  Mariano,  Juan  el  Perdio.  Madrid,  1899. 

Pineyro,  Enrique,  El  Roman t i c i sm o en  Espafta.  Paris,  r^rnipr 
manos,  1904  (TJ^ 


105 


Ramfrez  Angel,  Emiliano,  Jos£  Zorrllla,  Biograffa  Anecdota.  Place 
> and  date  not  given. 

Revilla,  Manuel  de  la,  Obras.  Madrid,  Imprenta  Central,  1883. 

Reynier,  G. , Les  Origlnes  de  la  l£gende  de  Don  Juan,  in  the  Revue 
de  Paris.  Paris,  May  15,  1906. 

Richardson,  Samuel,  The  History  of  Clarissa  Harlowe  (1747).  Lon- 
don, Sotheran,  1883. 

Said  Armesto,  Victor,  La  Levenda  de  Don  Juan.  Madrid,  Hernando, 
1908. 

Shadwell,  Thomas,  The  Libertine  (1676).  London,  printed  at  the 
“Crown " for  James  Knap ton,  1693. 

Soul&re,  Emilio,  "Adver tencia”  to  edition  of  Obras  escogidas  of 
C amp o amor . Leipzig,  Brockhaus,  1885. 

Ticknor,  History  of  Spanish  Literature,  3 vols.  4th  ed.,  Boston, 
Houghton-Miff lin,  Tlast  copyright)  1891. 

Tirso  de  Molina  (Fray  Gabriel  Tellez),  El  Burlador  de  Sevilla,  y 
Convidado  de  piedra,  in  Clasicos  Castellanos,  Vol.  II. 

Madrid,  1910. 

Valbuena,  Antonio  de,  Jose  Zorrilla,  estudio  cri tico-biograf ico , 
2d.  ed.  Madrid,  Fe^  1889 . 

Valera,  Juan,  Estudios  criticos  sobre  literatura,  politica  y cos- 
tumbres  de  nuestros  dias,  2d.  ed.  3 vols.  Sevilla,  Alvarez, 
1884 

Peplta  Jimenez  (1874),  in  Obras  completas,  Vol. 

IV.  Madrid,  Imprenta  Alemana,  1911. 

Valmar,  Marques  de,  Estudio  hist6rico,  crftico,  y filologlco  sobre 
las  cantigas  del  rev  Don  Alfonso  el  Sabio,  2d.  ed.  Madrid, 
Sucesores  de  Rivadeneyra,  1897. 

Velaxde,  Jos6,  Foreword  to  the  Recuerdos  del  tiempo  vie. jo  of  Zo- 
rrilla, Vol.  I,  2d.  ed.  Madr i d , Mengi bar , 1882. 

Waxman , Samuel  M.,  The  Don  Juan  Legend  in  Literature,  in  the  Jour- 
nal of  American  Folk-Lore,  Vol.  XXI.  Boston  and  New  York, 
Houghton-Miff lin,  1908. 

Werner,  Hans  (Auge-Henri  Castil-Blaze ) , Le  Souper  chez  le  comman- 
deur,  in  the  Revue  des  deux  mondes.  Paris,  January  1.  1834. 

Zamora,  Antonio  de.  No  hay  plazo  que  no  se  curnpla  ni  deuda  que  no 
se  pague , v Convidado  de  piedra,  in  the  Bib,  de  aut.  esp. , 
Vol.  XL IX'." 


' 

. 


. 

, 


I 


* 


, ■■■■ 


106 


Zorrilla,  Jose,  El  Capitdn  Montoya,  in  Obras  Complet as  de  Don  Jo- 
se Zorrilla , Vol.  I.  4 vols.  Madrid,  Delgado,  1905. 

, El  Desaffo  del  diablo,  in  Obras,  Vol.  I.  3 vols. 

Paris,  Gamier  Hermanos,  1847  (?7* 

, Don  Juan  Tenorio,  in  Obras , Vcl.  II.  Madrid, 

1905. 

, La  Leyenda  de  Don  Juan  Tenorio.  Barcelona,  M on- 

tan  er  y Sim<5n,  1895. 

, Leyendas , 2 vols.  Madrid,  Delgado,  1901. 

, Margarita  la  tornera,  in  Obras , Vol.  I.  Paris, 

1847  (?). 

1 Recuerdos  del  t i empo  viejo . 2d . ed . 11a dr i d , 

Mengfbar,  1882-3.  3 vols. 


1847  (?). 


, El  Testigo  de  bronce,  in  Obras,  Vol.  I.  Paris, 


